The Dragon Queen
by Erica North
Summary: Bound by Mara and the promises they once made to each other, Luthien and Ulfric are forced to make a decision that could tear them apart. Is their love strong enough to see them through the perils and darkness that lie ahead, or will they crumble and fall just when Skyrim needs its heroes to take a stand against an enemy who would devour their world? Sequel to Riding the Storm.
1. Chapter 1

On the night Hundr Stormcloak was born, dragons raged above the Palace of the Kings as his mother fought against the torment and agony of childbirth. To hear the guards tell the story in later years, there were half a dozen of the silver beasts, battling each other in the skies with ice and fire, their shouts echoing off the mountains behind the city like thunder. But Hundr's father, King Ulfric, said there were only two dragons that night, one bronze and one black. Their bodies spiraled through the skies, great wings flapping, writhing and entangled in a battle so intense flaming meteors rained down across Eastmarch and set the crumbling slums of the Grey Quarter on fire, the mountains echoed with their raging cries.

As Hundr was torn from his mother's womb, silent and purple, eyes opening for the first time as the midwife wiped him clean and cut the cord that bound him to the woman who brought him into the world, the cold air touched his skin and he unleashed a warrior's cry.

King Ulfric later confided to his steward, Jorleif, that even above the din of fire and chaos and dragon battle in the sky, he heard his firstborn son draw breath and follow with a deafening wail that brought the fighting dragons to the ground just outside the walls of Windhelm. They craned their long necks toward the sound, reptilian eyes blazing like fire, gaping maws stretched wide as they shouted together, "Dovahkiin."

Luthien had heard it too, the walls of the Palace of the Kings shuddering in answer to their combined voices as the healer moved her hands over the High Queen's body and the midwife wrapped her son in warm blankets. When she lowered him at last into his mother's arms, Luthien drew her him against her chest, blinking away the tears that had formed in her eyes when she'd heard his first cries. She was exhausted, every last ounce of her strength drained by the long hours of hard labor that wracked such torment on her body she didn't know if she would ever recover, but the child in her arms felt light as a feather as she drew him to her breast and lowered her adoring gaze over his face.

"Is there anything you need, milady?"

"Send for my husband." She didn't even lift her gaze from the bundle in her arms. She knew his wide eyes were not strong enough yet to focus, but she felt as if he were staring straight into her soul, begging her to hold him close and keep him with her until he was old enough to do the same for her.

"Yes, milady." The midwife disappeared and the healer followed, promising to return in an hour's time to make sure both mother and child were in good health.

Alone with her son, it was almost hard to believe he was the same bundle of energy she'd felt rolling and tumbling inside her, feet pressing out against her skin as he stretched and kicked. Ulfric would lower his cheek against her belly when the baby had grown restless inside her, speaking to his strong, warrior son who would one day hold Skyrim, maybe all of Tamriel, in the palm of his hand. Funny, she thought, her knuckle trailing down over his smooth cheek. He was small enough that when Ulfric came, he would be able to hold the boy in his broad palm with nothing more than his fingers cradling his head.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up as the door opened, but it was not Ulfric who stood in the shadow of the hall. It was Farkas, dirty and haggard from the road, the full beard braided at his chin making him look almost savage as he stalked toward her, still sinking the hilt of his war axe into his belt as he moved.

"If ever I get lost, I need only follow the shout and fire of dragons to find my way home to you." It had been so long since she'd seen him, though he was never far from her thoughts, but the sound of his voice overwhelmed her already fragile emotions and she started to cry, holding her hand out to him, fingers reaching to draw him near. "It seems your son was given a true, royal welcome, my queen." He bowed to her, the long strands and tangled braids of his brown hair falling into his face as he knelt.

"Please," she shook her head. "Don't bow to me, Farkas. Never bow to me."

"But the moot met months ago, and you're the High Queen now." He started to rise, but didn't meet her eyes.

She hadn't seen him since he'd left Solitude to search for Lydia. Many a lonely night, whenever Ulfric was away from Windhelm seeing to the restructuring of cities that had been sacked during the war against the Empire and not there to see her tears, Luthien had grieved for Farkas as though he was dead. As if he'd felt her tears from a thousand miles away, a courier would arrive two days later with a promise that he was still out there, still alive, coming home soon. But he hadn't come back to her after the war as he'd promised, or taken Ulfric up on his offer to become Thane of Eastmarch.

"I don't care who I am," she said, shaking her fingers in hopes that he would take them and come kneel at her side to see the wonder she'd brought into the world. "_You_ will never bow to me."

"He's beautiful." He lingered at the edge of the bed, leaning over to shadow the infant in her arms. "What will you call him?"

Lifting his gaze to her, it felt like it had been a thousand years since she'd looked into his eyes, and as he searched her face, a sorrow she'd thought she'd buried deep inside her surfaced and she remembered why they'd gone to war in the first place. He stood before her then with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the same weight his twin brother had once carried on his, and in that moment it was would have been impossible to tell the two of them apart if Vilkas were standing beside him.

"Hundr," she said.

"A strong, warrior's name," he nodded approval. "Your king must be proud."

"Ulfric hasn't seen him yet," she told him. "You are the first."

He looked away again, guilty. "I am honored, but I shouldn't linger. I think your king would be insulted if he came and I was here."

"Of course he wouldn't. You are family. Stay, Farkas. Please. It's been so long. I want to hear of your travels."

"No. Not tonight. You look tired. You should rest." He refused with a quick shake of his head. "I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay. I saw the dragons when I was coming up the western road and I… I feared the worst."

"You're not leaving Windhelm again, are you?"

"No, not yet."

"Promise me? There are so many things… I have so much to tell you."

He couldn't possibly know how much it had hurt her that he'd stayed away, how hard it had been to live without knowing where he was, what he was doing, if he was alone somewhere, hurt, afraid… dead. Sometimes she'd felt as if he'd been there, he would have stopped the darkness from dropping over her life like a smothering cloak.

"I promise."

The smile he offered her was so sad, she realized that maybe he did know how she'd felt. Maybe he had felt that way too, but knew he could never be as near to her as he wanted, so it was better to just stay away. She'd felt it the last time they'd spoken, when he'd lifted his hand, just barely touching her face as he moved the hair from her cheek and said goodbye. Everything they'd been through had been too much to bear alone, but instead of turning to him for strength and comfort, she'd once more fallen into the arms of another man.

"Farkas," she quietly called when he was reaching for the door. "Did you find Lydia?"

He turned back over his shoulder, the sorrow in his eyes the only answer she needed. "Get some sleep. I'll come talk with you soon, I promise."

Farkas was only gone a few moments before she heard the echoing boom of Ulfric's voice in the halls below. He was calling out orders to whoever was with him, sending someone to tend to the fires in the Gray Quarter. She heard him say, as his voice grew nearer, that as much as he'd love to let the filth burn in their slums, he couldn't chance the flames spreading to the palace or the homes in Valunstrad.

He burst through the doors like a man with a mission, the heavy slam behind him startling the babe in Luthien's arms and making him cry. She hushed and soothed him as his father made his way to the bed, kneeling to look him over before holding out his hands to take him. Despite his heavy hand, he was gentle with his newborn son, drawing him up to inspect him, pride glistening in his hard steel eyes as the child squirmed and wailed in his arms.

"Blood of my blood. His cries are strong," he noted. "Like a warrior."

"He is healthy."

"That is all that matters," he conceded. "And you?"

"I will heal, but my heart is breaking."

Ulfric nodded, lowering the babe back into her arms. "Of course you will heal. You are a strong, Nord woman with ice in her veins and fire in her heart." He hovered over her as she brought her son back to her chest, cradling him close. Ulfric brushed the hair from her brow, his soft lips lowering to her forehead before he stood upright again. "But you know what must be done if we want to keep him safe."

Her throat ached with unshed tears. She hated crying in front of Ulfric, no matter how emotionally broken she felt inside, or how twisted and fragile her hormones made her. Tears were a sign of weakness, and his queen was not a weak woman; that was why he'd married her, but what they must do to keep their child safe was destroying her inside and she didn't care if she looked weak in front of him anymore.

"I want to be his mother, Ulfric."

"You will always be his mother, heart of my heart. He is a son of kings, and one day everything we fight for will be his." Warmth slipped down her cheeks, wet and soft and cold before it reached her chin. Ulfric gripped her face in both hands, drawing her gaze to his, her tears dripping over his fingers. "I've already sent word to Master Arngeir that he is coming. Hold him in your arms tonight, show him your love so he always feels it in his heart."

"But I don't want to let him go," she whispered. "I carried him around inside me. I felt him grow and stir, and now that I've held him in my arms…"

Ulfric brushed her tears away with this thumbs, and she swore she actually felt him trembling. "We have no choice, Luthien."

It hadn't been easy, but they had kept her pregnancy a secret and that secret did not leave the Palace of the Kings. For long months she'd stayed abed in the tower with none but a healer and midwife to look after her needs. Occasionally Galmar came to sit with her and talk about the armies they were building, and Wuunferth, the court wizard, visited with her from time to time to discuss the arcane, but aside from those scant few visitors, her only true companion in those long months had been her husband—and even then, only when he was actually in the city.

When people came calling to ask after his wife, Ulfric lied and told them the Dragonborn was away searching for knowledge that would bring an end to the dragons. Though that was not entirely false, all of her research had been done at the desk in the quarters she shared with her husband, thumbing through tomes Wuunferth brought to her from Urag gro-Shub, Librarian of the College of Winterhold.

Ulfric had promised her that if Farkas came, he would grant him permission to visit with her and keep her company, but Farkas had never come.

As happy as Ulfric had been about the coming of his son, the threat of Imperial reinforcements and Thalmor invasion had grown more quickly than he expected after the war against the Empire ended. Ulfric knew that if the Aldmeri Dominion attacked, the elves would make sure every last ounce of Stormcloak blood was washed clean from the world. He would fight them until his death if he must, but they would never take his son. After weeks of emotional argument, Ulfric presented her with the only course of action he believed would keep their child safe, and together they had gone to the Greybeards to ask for help.

Master Arngeir had been less than enthusiastic to see them, especially Ulfric, who had once been his pupil. Ulfric had turned his back on the Way of the Voice, using his Thu'um in acts of aggression against the Forsworn in Markarth and King Torygg the day he'd shouted him to the ground and run his sword through the young king's heart.

"Why should we help you, Ulfric Stormcloak, when clearly you have no respect for our teachings? Your coming here is an insult."

But in the end, it had been Luthien who convinced him when she told him of the dreams that had haunted her sleep ever since the child had taken root inside her and begun to grow there. Dreams in which he raised his Thu'um with hers against the World Eater, Alduin, who sought to destroy them all.

"Then perhaps he will be Dragonborn, like his mother." Master Arngeir had lifted a thoughtful hand to the knot in his beard, mouth tight in thought. "Despite his father's wretched temper and defiant blood in his veins, with proper training and distance from the outside world, we can teach him the Way of the Voice, but there must be conditions."

"We will do anything you ask of us if you keep our son safe," Ulfric promised. It was the first time Luthien had ever seen him humbled, almost chastised under the cold glare of Master Arngeir's bright, blue eyes.

"The boy must come to us as soon as he is born, with none but an escort who will be expected to leave after delivering him to us and a nurse to care for him until he is old enough to dress himself. Once he is here, here is where he will stay until he is of age. Not until that day will he even know who his parents were, and if, for some reason, the Dragonborn must come here during that time, he will not know she is anything more than a traveler come seeking our wisdom and council. Under no circumstances will his father be welcome here at all."

She'd started to tremble then, her knees shaking so violently she was afraid she would fall to the ground. They would take her son from her, and he would never know her. How was that fair? Ulfric had told her she would be able to see him from time to time, but even he hadn't known Arngeir's terms would be so severe.

"Do you find these terms acceptable?"

She felt Ulfric's hands on her, holding her steady as he conceded with nothing more than a bow of his head. "As you wish, Master."

Luthien had gripped her husband's forearms so tight then, he'd shown clear bruises on his flesh that didn't begin to fade for two weeks after they arrived back in Windhelm. She hadn't spoken to him in that two weeks, but sat alone in the Temple of Talos, silently cursing the gods and wishing his seed had never rooted in her womb. Why would they send her a son, if she was never meant to hold him?

Those were the first words she said to him when she finally spoke. In those two weeks of silence she'd slept night after night with her back to him, but that night she turned into him and let her weakness show, asking him, "Why? Why would the gods send me a son, if I am not even meant to be his mother?"

He didn't have an answer. He only kissed her as he drew her chest against his and promised, "We will have more sons, when we know where we stand and the world is safe." As if having more sons would make the pain of that loss ever go away.

She had dreamed of two sons, two strong bear cubs that she held tight in her arms as she ran from Alduin, the World Eater, but even if Ulfric gave her another son, would that one be taken from her too? "This world will never be safe," she whispered.

When the babe in her arms sighed, it drew her back to the moment and she lifted her eyes to Ulfric. He was staring down at their son, his own gaze distant and his heart conflicted.

"Will you grant me a boon, my king?" The sound of her voice made the infant stir and stretch, eyes blinking open again.

"You have given me a strong son this day. Anything you ask of me is yours, heart of my heart."

"I want Farkas take him to the Greybeards. There is no one else in the world I trust more than him."

She watched the corners of his mouth tighten, his gaze shifting away from her face as he nodded reluctantly. "If that is your wish."

"Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

"Wait a minute," Farkas tilted his head, locks of brown hair falling across his cheek as he tried to make sense of what they were asking him to do. "You want me to take your newborn son to the Throat of the World and just leave him there?"

Luthien swallowed, her tired eyes twitching with stress, but before she could speak, Ulfric intervened. "No one is to know who he is or where you've come from. We have worked very hard to keep this secret safe, and the Greybeards are they only ones who can make sure it stays safe."

"You are the only one I trust to do this, Farkas," Luthien spoke up. "Will you help us, please?"

She watched him lean back, his lips parting as if he were going to speak, and then closing again as he lifted his arms to cross them over his broad chest. He shook the hair back over his shoulders and just looked between the two of them as if they'd lost their minds. "Why are you doing this again?"

"The Aldmeri Dominion is not going to suffer Ulfric's defiance. The way we crushed Imperial forces in Skyrim is an insult, and without their puppet government to push us to our knees, it's only a matter of time before they are on our shores looking for a way to make him submit. The Emperor has already sent several missives, and in so many words, he has threatened to send in more troops if Ulfric doesn't step down and surrender Skyrim to the Empire."

"Which I will never do," Ulfric added almost arrogantly. "I will die before I turn Skyrim over to the elves, but I will not let them kill my son. He is innocent."

"And now that the moot has named Ulfric High King, Hundr is his only living heir," Luthien said, though the word heir left a bad taste in her mouth when she spoke it.

"Luthien and the Greybeards believe he may also be Dragonborn, which makes him doubly valuable to the Thalmor."

"He must be kept safe at all costs."

Farkas seemed to be weighing that in his mind, his brow furrowed as he thought through it. "I know I'm not exactly the smartest man, but don't you think you should have thought of that before you brought him into the world?"

"Farkas…" Luthien started to rise, but her body was still weak from long hours of child labor and she felt the blood rush to her head. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, Ulfric moved to her, his hand out to steady her, but she pushed it away. She'd known Farkas wouldn't understand; she barely understood it herself. "I know I've asked a lot of you in the years we've known each other—"

He interrupted before she could finish that sentence. "You have never asked me for anything, Lu, and I know you wouldn't even ask now if you didn't really need my help, so I will do this thing for you, and only for you. But you…" He turned his sharp eyes toward his king, head shaking, lips pinched into a tight scowl. "High King, or not, _you_ have a lot of gods damned nerve asking _me_ for anything."

Ulfric's brow furrowed, but not in confusion. There was guilt in his eyes; Luthien saw it there just before he shifted them away from her and crossed his arms. "Don't you think I know this already? I will be in your debt."

"One day, I'll ask you to pay that debt, Ulfric Stormcloak." Farkas shook his head. "For now, I'll take the baby to the Throat of the World, but after that I'm done doing favors for you. You can take your thanage and your kingdom and shove them both up your ass for all I care."

Luthien ignored the pulse of blood that stirred in her as she rose, looking between the two of them with confusion. "Farkas? What is this? What's going on?"

"It doesn't matter," Farkas shook his head. "I won't be coming back to Windhelm after I do this for you, Luthien, but if you need me, you'll always know where you can find me."

"What do you mean, you won't be coming back? Will someone please tell me what in the name of the Nine Divines is going on here?"

Neither of them answered her, but just stood there staring each other down and she swore Farkas was actually challenging Ulfric with unspoken rage, nostrils flaring wide every time he exhaled. "I'll take my leave now. Is there anything else I should know, any special instructions you need to pass along before I go?"

"Just get the boy safely to High Hrothgar," Ulfric said. "You will be fairly compensated. I promise you."

"Keep your coin." Farkas looked to her again as he drew in another breath, holding it there for what felt like an eternity before exhaling. "I will take care of your son," he promised, and then he turned to go.

"Farkas, wait," she started after him, but Ulfric grabbed her by the arm, fingers curling deep into her muscle to hold her in place.

"Let him go, woman."

Farkas paused in the doorway, fists clenching so tight at his sides she heard his knuckles crack. Turning back over his shoulder to glare at Ulfric, who loosened his grip on her, as if in that moment he actually feared the man staring back at him, all Farkas said was, "Ask him about our conversation in Solitude." And then he was gone.

"What was he talking about?" She spun on her heel, lifting her eyes to Ulfric, but he refused to meet her gaze. "What happened in Solitude?"

"Nothing of consequence," he shrugged. "What matters now is that our son makes it safely to High Hrothgar."

"No," she shook her head at him. "That was _not_nothing of consequence. What did you say to him in Solitude, Ulfric? I have never seen him speak to anyone like that unless he was preparing to put a sword through their gut. What did you do to him?"

"We had a conversation, that's all." He lowered his hands to her shoulders, swiftly changing the subject. "You're pale, heart of my heart. Come lie down and take some rest."

"I don't want to lie down and rest." She shrugged away from him again. "I want to know what you said to him."

"Luthien, it was so long ago, I don't even remember what I said to him. We were all drinking that night and I barely even recall speaking with him. What does it matter? It's over now."

"You remember things the Stone-Fist said to you twenty-five years ago," she said, "as clearly as if he just mumbled them into his mead ten minutes ago. I want to know what you said to Farkas, Ulfric, and I want to know now."

"Don't you want to say goodbye to your son?" He moved past her, toward the door, refusing to answer her. "I will bring him to you so you can tell him you love him one last time."

She sat down on the bed when he was gone, confused and angry for reasons she didn't even understand. Whatever Ulfric had said that night, it had kept Farkas away from Windhelm for six months, and in those six months she had cried herself to sleep more nights than she could count on both hands, worrying herself sick that something terrible had happened to him. The only thing that kept her hope alive was those brief notes.

She'd known something was wrong, but she'd been so wrapped up in everything going on around her that she told herself he was finally letting himself grieve over the loss of his brother. That maybe all the blood he'd shed for Vilkas had gone to his head and he just needed some time.

When Ulfric returned with the baby and his nurse, he was already wrapped so tight in warm furs that nothing but his sleeping face was visible. He lowered his son into her arms and hovered near her, watching her memorize every line and curve of his face even though she knew in her heart that one day she wouldn't know his face at all, and he would never know hers.

Lowering her lips to his cheek, she whispered in his ear before she kissed him one last time. "I love you. I am always with you. Huzrah meyz thu'um zeim ven, Dovah Kulaan." _Listen for my voice on the wind_, _Dragon Prince_.

Ulfric nodded to the woman in the doorway, and she approached the bed, fearfully looking to the queen as she held out her arms to take her son away. Luthien did not allow herself to cry, even though the tears were already spilling inside her. She kissed his forehead and then his lips and turned him over to the only woman who would ever give him comfort when he was frightened, sing him songs and tell him stories when he was lingering awake in his bed on long, cold nights.

"Keep him warm," she said.

"Of course, milady."

Luthien watched as the young woman drew him against her chest and made for the door on Ulfric's silent command, and then he followed, closing her in her tower with her sorrows and regrets. As soon as he was gone, she let loose her pain, heart wrenching sobs of agony and despair echoing through the Palace of the Kings long after the silent man with the scraggly, knotted beard and his charges stepped outside into the wind and ice, bracing themselves for the long, cold journey to the Throat of the World.


	3. Chapter 3

Luthien did not see Ulfric for three days. She knew that wherever he was within the palace, he was grieving in his own way, but that didn't make it right. Giving up their son was different for her. She'd carried him around inside her body, had felt him with her, kicking and pushing whenever she felt like she was alone as if he were saying, "You are not alone. I am here." She longed for the comfort of her husband's strong arms and whispered promises that everything would be all right, but she knew it would be nothing but lies, and her heart was tired and already full of so many false promises.

He'd told her he would help her win her war against the dragons after they drove the Empire from Skyrim, but his attention had quickly fallen to the failing Empire and Aldmeri Dominion and Alduin was still out there. She was no closer to defeating him than she'd been before she'd joined in his cause; she was further from it than ever. He'd told her they would protect their son, but he had sent their son away from them, entrusting his care and protection to someone else. He'd said he loved her, that she was the heart of his heart, and yet he'd left her there to suffer alone with her grief and despair.

She had known it from the moment her own heart had answered his call: Ulfric Stormcloak had only one love—the Season Unending, and as long as there were battles and oppression to be fought, High Queen or not, Luthien would always play second fiddle to his mistress, war.

On the fourth day, she dressed herself, braided the long red locks of her hair and lowered over her brow the golden, amethyst crown Ulfric had given her after the moot had named him High King. She'd had no one to wear it for until then, but that day she was making an appearance, whether Ulfric wanted to see her face or not.

She made her way down the long stairs and through the war room, into the main hall.

As she expected, Ulfric was sitting on his throne, his stare far off in a distance only he could see while the people of Eastmarch and the Rift brought their complaints and laid them at his feet. Dragons were burning their farms to the ground, sweeping down and stealing off with their goats and cattle. Bandits and brigands ran rampant in Riften, but that was nothing new, and Ulfric told them all as much.

"These are things you should bringing to Jarl Laila Law-Giver, not me." He looked up when she made her way into the hall and walked to the table to sit down, everyone growing quiet for a moment as they watched her walk through the room.

She poured herself a flagon of mead and leaned forward into the table to listen to the people of Skyrim cry out for restitution, protection and justice. It wasn't long before they all forgot about her and remembered why they'd come in the first place, returning their attention to Ulfric and Jorleif.

"But something has to be done about the dragons," one man hollered about the rising din of voices crying out to be heard. "What good is it, having the Dragonborn as our queen, if she won't even lift a finger to rid the land of their menace?"

"My oldest boy was killed last month, trying to fend off an attack on our farm," another railed. "Now I have no one to help me bring in my crops come harvest."

"My good people," Ulfric held up his hand. "I assure you that your queen is doing everything in her power to restore peace to our skies and our land, but you must all remember there is only one Dragonborn. She cannot be all things to all people at once. She is doing the best she can, but in the meantime, I can send men to the countryside to help you rebuild your farms."

"What's the point in that?" An old crone of a woman spoke up. "My husband and I have already rebuilt our farm once, and three weeks after we finished raising the new barn, the same dragon that burned it down the first time returned and set it afire again."

Ulfric opened his mouth to speak, but Luthien had stood and called out, cutting him off. "Where did this dragon come from?"

"It makes its home at the peak of Northwind Summit, my queen," the old woman said, bowing in front of her, the long folds of her worn skirt trailing out across the floor. "Night and day, you can see shadows in the sky, circling the mountain top when it isn't busy burning our farms and our homes to ash."

"Then I will go and take care of the dragon in Northwind Summit."

"And what about the dragon above Kynesgrove?" The man who'd lost his son interjected. "A great, bloody black beast, that one is, with eyes as red as fire in the night."

She only needed to close her eyes for a second to see the dragon he spoke of. Alduin, with scales as black as night and eyes like glowing rubies in the darkness. Why was he lingering above Kynesgrove? Would she still find him there, and if so, when she faced him would she be strong enough to stand against him. She didn't think she was ready to face him yet, but the people of Skyrim were crying out for their champion and she had no choice but to answer their call.

"I will see to that dragon too. I will see to them all, but please, I ask that you give me time. As King Ulfric has pointed out, I am only one person, and though I may be the Dragonborn,_you_ are not powerless against these beasts." The left corner of Ulfric's mouth twitched upward when she said those words, only reaching higher when she continued. "Arm yourselves with bows and drive them from the sky with flaming arrows if you can. Do whatever you can to protect yourselves and your families, and together we will show the dragons that the people of Skyrim will not cower in the wake of their ice and fire."

Her rally had raised all of their voices at once, and it took more than an hour before Jorleif calmed them again and sent them away for the day. When the last one left the Palace of the Kings, Ulfric rose from his throne and joined her at the table, motioning for more food to be brought out. Luthien didn't look up at him, but glanced over her shoulder and down the table to where Ysarald Thrice-Pierced sat nursing his mead.

"You handled yourself well with our people," Ulfric told her. "You made your king proud today."

Still not lifting her eyes to his, she said, "I am leaving in the morning to battle the dragon on Northwind Summit."

"Then I will come with you."

Swallowing the nervous lump that formed in her throat, she finally looked up at him. "No."

In his forty-three years, few had denied Ulfric Stormcloak and lived to tell about it, and he'd taken pride in that fact. One did not become a king by lowering his head and accepting defeat without a fight. Raising his chin, he tilted his gaze back to study her, eyes like tempered steel centered on her unyielding gaze. She heard Ysarald scoot his bench away from the table and stalk off toward the kitchens, as if the power of Ulfric's stare had been warning enough for him to leave.

"What do you mean, no, woman?"

She had been foolish enough to believe the way he'd called her woman had been a term of endearment in the past, but it felt like an insult to her then—who was she to dare to challenge her man, her husband, her king?

"This is something I have to do alone. It is my burden to bear and you have your kingdom to govern now."

"I thought we would do this together. You helped me win my war, now I will help you win yours."

"I thought we were going to do a lot of things together, Ulfric," she said. "I thought we would raise our son together, but you sent our son away so someone else could raise him and you left me to grieve him alone. For three days, I mourned him. Three days, I waited for my husband to come and grieve with me…to offer me comfort, but he never came. So I will do this alone as well."

"You think I don't grieve, woman?" His mighty voice echoed through the empty hall, but she did not flinch. "You think it did not tear my heart out to send my own flesh and blood away from me? I am so sick with grief and guilt, I can barely even look at you… my wife, who once loved me with all her heart, but now loathes the very sight of me because of the things I've had to do to keep the life we made together safe from our enemies."

She wondered how many times he'd played those words out in his head over the last three days, if he'd imagined their confrontation when it finally came upon them and practiced that speech, just as she'd known he'd practiced his victory speech for months before finally crushing Imperial forces and claiming Solitude for the Stormlcoaks. Too many people thought Ulfric was a man of stark action, who acted rashly and allowed himself to be driven by emotional impulse and rage, but in the last year she'd come to know that his brooding silences were not silent at all, at least not in his head. He was always thinking, always looking for the next opportunity to come out on top by any means necessary. If she hadn't known that about him, his words might have impacted her the way he'd hoped for them to.

But not that time; Luthien wouldn't let him turn the tables of her own grief into an opportunity to martyr himself.

"If you can barely even look at me, then perhaps it would be for the best if you stayed here. Skyrim needs her champion right now, more than ever, and I can't afford to be distracted by your selfish temper, Ulfric."

She cleared the bench from the table and stood up, turning her back on him as she made her way toward the war room. He did not follow, and she did not look back, even though she could clearly see the look of shock he surely wore every time she closed her eyes. No one spoke to him like that, ever; no one but his queen, who'd learned quickly and early that if she wanted to earn his respect and his love, she had to speak to him from her heart, and right then her heart was filled with righteous anger unlike anything even the great brooder of broods could ever fathom.

As she passed through the war room and reached for the door, she caught Galmar Stone-Fist's gaze and half-expected him to scowl at her, but she saw respect in his eyes when he lifted his mead to her just before raising the tankard to his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

She hadn't expected Ulfric to come to her after that, but he did, arriving in the doorway and lingering there with his arms crossed as he watched her rifle through the chest at the end of their bed. She rose with Wuuthrad, the cold metal and leather of the handle warming in her grip like an old lover quickening to her touch. The Axe of Eastmarch was a fine battle axe, and had seen her through the end of the war for Skyrim's freedom, but Wuuthrad held a special place in her heart and it only seemed fitting she would carry Ysgramor's blade into battles that promised to restore some semblance of peace to the people of Tamriel.

"My heart." Ulfric stepped into the room, distracting her from her reverie as he approached her and folded his fingers around hers over Wuuthrad's hilt. "I have done so many things for which I know you'll never forgive me, and perhaps your brother was right in Solitude when he said I did not deserve you."

She squinted up at him, mouth tight in question.

"It was not with a brother's love he spoke those words to me, and that was why I told him to stay away from you, because perhaps in my heart I knew he was right. He is a far better man than I am, and I feared one day you would see that if he lingered near you, and you would betray me with one who could love better than I."

"You… you sent Farkas away from me?" She felt her chest tighten, her heart thumping inside her with sorrow and betrayal. All those nights she'd spent worrying, fretting that he was alone out there, or maybe even dead. Was there no end to Ulfric's selfishness?

"And I would do it again if I thought it would keep your fragile heart safe in my hands." He was still holding her hands beneath his, fingers tightening with emotion. "I know I am not an easy man to love, Luthien, but even in my darkest hour you stood beside me, fought beside me, quieted the thunder of war in my heart and showed me the beauty of stillness and silence in a world that will never be still or silent, no matter how hard we fight to bring it peace. I will not lose you now, even if I've never deserved the love you gave me so freely."

She didn't care how weak she looked to him in that moment, she lost it and let her emotions rule her. She was tired and so broken, she wasn't sure she would ever be whole again. She'd lost her son and her best friend and the man she had allowed herself to love so freely had been the one to take both of them from her.

Farkas was right; Ulfric did not deserve her.

Unclenching her hand from beneath his, she railed against him then, her open palm pummeling into his chest as she let the rage roll through her. Ulfric let her go, standing there taking every blow without raising his hand to stop her as she screamed and hammered into him every ounce of grief and frustration she'd tucked away inside her over the long months of isolation and regret.

"I loved you!" she cried as the force of her tirade backed him into the wall near the door. "I trusted you, and I believed in you and I was foolish enough to think you loved me too. I gave you everything, Ulfric. Everything! And you only took, never giving anything in return."

His hand lifted then to grab her wrist before she could strike him again, fingers curling around, tightening to hold her at bay. His other hand came up to rest on her cheek, wide palm spanning, fingers reaching into her hair to draw her close. Wuuthrad rested between their chests, holding them apart as his face came against hers, cheek nuzzling into her cheek, the rough hair of his beard bristling against her chin.

"I know," he whispered, his soft mouth searching for hers. "I am… sorry."

Sorry was not enough; she didn't know if it would ever be enough, and she drew her lips from the warmth of his kiss that had so often quelled her in the past. Turning her head away, she backed up and shrugged away from his reaching touch.

"I am leaving tomorrow to kill the dragon at Northwind Summit, and when I finish there, I will go to Kynesgrove and face Alduin." She drew Wuuthrad and her hand from his grasp. "I am going alone."

"Alduin is in Kynesgrove?" he balked. "You aren't ready to stand against him yet, and certainly not alone."

"Then I go to my death," she turned her back on him. "And I go alone."

"Luthien," he began. "Heart of my heart, don't be a fool and throw yourself at Death's feet to punish me. Please."

"I throw myself at Death's feet because it is my calling, Ulfric, and that calling has never had anything to do with you. It was you I let distract me from it, a distraction I cannot afford to play to anymore."

He took a step toward her, hand reaching out to try and bring her to reason. She had calmed herself enough on the outside that he would never know how much she trembled within as she lifted Wuuthrad between them again, like a threshold. He glanced down at the weapon, then lifted his stare to hers, the hard steel of his eyes softening with sorrow and something she'd never seen in them—defeat. "This is madness, woman."

"Maybe so." Turning her back on him then, she pulled open her bag and scanned its contents to take a quick inventory. It had been too long since she'd slung that bag over her shoulder and strapped Wuuthrad to her back with a purpose. There were hardly enough potions inside to get her beyond the gates of Windhelm. The last time she'd carried it had been into the battle for Solitude, and even then it had been light after she'd used the majority of her magicka reserves to heal Farkas.

As she lifted it from the bed, the glass bottles inside clanked together, liquid sloshing around when she eased it over her shoulder and reached for Wuuthrad. He didn't move from the doorway as she spun around to walk through it, but instead stood there as if to block her from going.

"I can't let you do this."

"Ulfric," she swallowed. "I love you. After everything, I don't know even why, but I do, and right now you _have_ to let me go."

He closed his eyes, turning his head to the right as if he couldn't bear to watch her leave. She lingered only a moment, taking him in and then she walked toward the door. He reached out when she passed, gently grabbing her arm, but not drawing her back.

"Talos be with you," and then he let her go.


	5. Chapter 5

It would have made far more sense for her to head to Kynesgrove first, as it was just south of Windhelm and much closer than Northwind Summit, which laid northwest of Shor's Stone in The Rift, but if the farmer who'd come to court spoke true, and it was Alduin in Kynesgrove, she wasn't ready to face him just yet.

So instead, she traveled the southwestern road, skirting around Kynesgrove completely before making her way east again just past Fort Amol and continuing her journey until the road itself disappeared and she had to consult her map by firelight when she made camp that night to ensure she was on the right path.

It was a strange routine, getting back on the road, and even though it had been more than a year since she'd endeavored to meet with dragons, she realized as she leaned her back into the tree behind her that she was not used to traveling alone.

She and Farkas had spent so many nights together under the cold, open sky, reminiscing about old times and dreaming of home. Home, where Vilkas waited for them when he wasn't there to keep them out of trouble. Home, where she could hang Wuuthrad on the rack and slip out of her armor and into her husband's waiting arms. Vilkas would eagerly draw her to their bed and smooth the knots from her back and shoulders while she told him of her latest adventure, and then he would take her in his arms and love her with every part of himself so fiercely that afterward she would lie on her back beside him, breathless and warm, their fingers entwined, and their hearts racing. And he would argue with her because he knew she had to leave again and he didn't want to let her go.

It had all been so much easier then. In the beginning, it hadn't been so, but once she accepted what her heart had been longing for from the start, love with Vilkas had been easy; it made sense.

But it had never been so with Ulfric.

Young and reckless, fueled by grief and loss, she had followed the fire of Farkas's rage against the Empire that had killed his brother to Windhelm and together they'd signed on with the Stormcloaks. The day she'd returned from Serpentstone Isle and proven herself worthy of Galmar Stone-Fist's ranks, Ulfric began a game between them that would carry them into the twisted tale that brought her to the place she now sat. He'd asked her to show him the power of her Thu'um one day, and when she'd said perhaps she would, he'd leveled the hard steel of his gaze on her and asked, "And if I were to command it as your king?"

Later, he'd commanded her to warm her king's bed, taking advantage of her broken heart and showing her a tender side of him few ever earned the privilege of seeing. She'd fought with herself afterward, but then it had happened again and again and again until it was too late and her heart began to beat for only Ulfric.

She couldn't even tell herself that if she'd known then what she knew now, she would have stopped herself from falling in love with him. He had filled her heart with warmth and her belly with life, and both of those things seemed to far outweigh the fact that he'd brought nothing but war and darkness with him into her life. There was light in him too; she knew that in her heart. In the long months she'd been hidden away in their rooms, he would come to her at night and lay between her legs, resting his head and his hands on her swollen belly, claiming a man was only truly a man when he had a son to leave his legacy to.

"You have given me everything, heart of my heart," he said, soft lips fluttering across her bare skin.

But everything was not enough.

And then she thought of her son, shivering in her armor as she wondered where he was, if Farkas had made it to the Throat of the World with him yet. If the Greybeards had stopped him at the door, taking the boy from him and sending him away without a word. She wondered if he hated her because of what Ulfric had done; if their son would hate her too as he grew and began to question where he'd come from, why his mother and father had sent him away.

The crack of a stick under foot drew her from her thoughts, quickly shifting her attention left as she unsheathed the dagger from her belt and slowly rose from her seat. Firelight flickered in the yellow of their eyes, three pairs of them staring back at her from the shadows, the dominant wolf growling as he stepped forward to show her they weren't afraid.

Jamming her dagger back into her belt, she reached for Wuuthrad, drawing it forward and watching orange flame glint off the steel. Her mouth drew into an appreciative grin. It wasn't dragons, but it would do. She charged into the circle they made around her and swung her blade wide, jaunting back and feinting left before striking right and relishing in the yelping howl of pain the first wolf made when it went down. The other two weren't deterred by his fall, and they danced around her, snapping their jaws and snarling. She dropped Wuuthrad down into the skull of the wolf directly in front of her, the last one standing charging in and gnashing its teeth on her sleeve as she wrenched her blade free.

It wouldn't let go, tugging and tearing at her until she did something she hadn't done in so long, she felt as if she'd almost forgotten how. Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled, bellowing, "FUS!" The wolf flew backward, tumbling head over kicking feet until it crashed into a tree several feet away, unleashing a whining yowl of pain when it landed on the ground.

Luthien rushed forward, swinging Wuuthrad as she ran and connecting with the beast's neck, severing its head in one fell swoop.

Stepping back, she realized as she caught her breath that sitting in the palace all those months, growing heavy with child and feeding on sweet rolls had done nothing for her stamina. She was going to have to make every step a training exercise if she wanted to get back in shape to fight dragons.

She barely slept that night, tuning her senses into her surroundings and listening to the night world come alive. She heard a bear groan somewhere downwind, but its snuffling growls and footfall grew distant as it made its way north.

Before the sun even rose, she was back on her path, sprinting even when her breath grew ragged and heavy and retraining her magic skills. She practiced shooting fireballs as she ran, and calling her bound war axe into her hands. She cast her fire atronarch and watched it float toward her with nothing nearby to unleash its fury upon, but when she saw Shor's Stone in the distance on the morning of her third day on the road, she drew her magic back inside herself and sheathed her weapons, slowing to a fast-paced jog as she approached the tiny town.

The sound of dragon rage and fire could be heard, smoke rising up in plumes, and she moved faster, racing in to join the battle already in progress. The inhabitants of the tiny village threw stones and shot arrows into the beast, backing it so close to the entrance of the mine it couldn't spread its wings to escape into the sky, but it was charging forward, driving those who would fight back with heavy blasts of flame that set the thatched roof of the blacksmith's home on fire.

Luthien ran forward, dodging left when the dragon moved right and swinging up onto its neck, catching it off guard. The rough brush of its scales against her armor burned the skin of her thighs, but she ignored it, finding her balance and pushing up to stand against the swaying protest of its head as it tried to throw her off. She brought Wuuthrad down into the top of its skull and it screamed in agony, jerking its head forward and sending her tumbling through the shocked villagers still standing with their arrows ready to launch.

"Shoot it!" she cried, righting herself and shaking the dizziness from her addled head. She ducked back, holding up Wuuthrad to stagger it when it stumbled toward her.

Arrows flew through the air, sinking into the dragon's scales, and surprised, it leapt back two steps, its back crashing into the stone behind it. Luthien rushed in again, Wuuthrad swinging and connecting with the dragon's jaw, black blood spraying warm across her face. She jaunted right, moving out of the way as it bucked its head toward her, showering her with another spray of blood when she pushed off her right foot and felt the muscles in her left arm guide and connect.

The dragon spasmed and shrieked in protest before its body shuddered and fell to the ground in a thunderous cloud of dust that washed back on her as she trembled under the force of its fall. Lowering Wuuthrad to the dirt, she leaned on its handle, catching her breath as the dragon's soul whirled and streamed around her, tingling across her skin as it seeped through her pours and into her blood until it became a part of her.

"Is it really… dead?" she heard a woman's voice behind her, drawing her back to herself.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes," said a gruff man, stepping up to linger over her shoulder, kneeling on his knees when she turned to face them. "It's really you. The Dragonborn. The Dragonborn has come."

"Please, don't kneel," she lowered her hand to his shoulder, tightening her fingers on his shirt to insist he stand.

"But you are our High Queen," the man lifted his gaze to her, his wide blue eyes filled with respect.

"I am just a woman," she told him. "And I've come to take care of the dragons that have been destroying your homes and land. This one won't be bothering you anymore."

"No, but it won't be long before his two brothers discover he's gone missing and come after us." Luthien cocked her head toward the man who'd spoken from the back of the crowd.

"Two brothers?"

"There were three of them before you took care of this one. They made their home up at the summit, flying down here to wreak all kinds of havoc."

"I will see to them, and your homes will be safe again," she promised.

"And we will be in your debt."

"How do I get to Northwind Summit from here?" she asked.

"You could go through Northwind mines," a woman told her. "But they've been abandoned for years, and people say it's haunted."

"Or you can head northwest and take the mountain pass," the man said. "It's a dangerous trek, treacherous steep. Either way, are you sure you should be making this journey by yourself? Perhaps one of us should come with you."

"Don't worry about me. See to your homes. I'll take care of your dragons."

"Or they'll take care of you," she heard someone mutter under their breath.

She hadn't been expecting to take on two dragons in the same place, she thought, lowering Wuuthrad over her shoulder and heading northwest, away from Shor's Stone and toward the mountain that assuredly led to certain doom. At least she'd managed to increase her odds of success by getting rid of one of their numbers on the ground. It bolstered her confidence a little, to know she still had it, but she didn't let it go to her head.

The people of Shor's Stone had already begun the attack, weakening the dragon before she'd arrived. She wouldn't have so great an advantage once she was at the top of Northwind Summit… alone… against two dragons. She'd be lucky if she even made it back down the mountain in one piece, let alone the victor of the battle that awaited her.

By the time she'd reached the craggy passage, the sun was setting and she didn't want to chance losing her footing in the dark. She made camp in the trees, allowing herself a small fire, over which she roasted a small rabbit she'd shot with her bow. While she ate, she listened to the dragons roar atop the distant summit and she wondered what they were saying to each other. Did they rage at the loss of their fallen brother? Had they even noticed he'd not returned?

From time to time she could see the far off flicker of their fire, followed by a roar that echoed through the valley like a nightmare, and even though it should have scared her, it actually made her feel at peace. Master Arngeir had told her when she'd first gone to visit High Hrothgar almost four years earlier that her soul was the soul of a dragon, and that some believed the gods imbued mortals with this power during great times of need. She'd asked him at the time if that didn't make it wrong for her to kill dragons and the old man had leaned back to look at her, his thick brows lowering over his eyes until she almost couldn't see them at all.

"That is a wise question, Dovahkiin," he said, "but only you can answer it. Meditate on it." He'd bowed to take his leave from her, saying, "Breath and focus," before walking away.

She'd meditated on that question for an entire day, lost in the silence of the monastery, but content with the strange comfort it had brought her during a trying and difficult time of her life. Would that silence and peace bring comfort to her son during the long, lonely years of his life at High Hrothgar, or would the cold isolation of the Throat of the World only make him feel like a prisoner?

Ulfric had once confided in her that the ten years he spent at High Hrothgar had created a great conflict in his soul. The fire of his heart had often interrupted the peace in his soul during meditation, making it difficult to concentrate on his studies there. He'd been meant to become a Greybeard himself, but by the time he reached his eighteenth name day, the warrior within ached to be free and so he'd walked away from that path in choice of a darker one. Would their own son one day face the same dark choice as his father?

Or would the conflicts he faced be more like those his mother stood against; the dragon soul inside her longing for the cold comfort of the open skies, a host of dragons at her back lifting their mighty voices.

Before she left her first visit to High Hrothgar, Master Arngeir asked her if she'd found the answer to her question in her meditations.

"Not yet."

"When you are ready to hear it, it will come."

She'd been listening for it ever since, but her mind was all too often muddled with the never ending sea of troubles always at her feet.

Lifting her gaze back to another display of fire that burned beneath Secunda's white belly, turning it briefly orange, she heard footsteps then, humanoid and coming up the northwest passage she'd followed. Whoever it was, either didn't know she was there, or they didn't care, as they made no effort to cover up the sound of their movement. Thieves and assassins were rarely that stupid, but she'd killed a few bandits in her time who hadn't had sense enough to quiet their own footfall.

She rose quietly, pulling into the shadow of the tree and leaning out to watch the road for signs of whoever approached. She listened for voices, but none came. As the figure grew clearer, she caught a glimpse of ebony armor, its intricately carved plate glinting in the white light of the moon.

_Great_, she rolled her eyes, leaning her back into the tree behind her. Skyforge steel was excellent armor, and she'd worn it proudly since the day Eorlund Gray-Mane had given it to her, but ebony was a whole new league and the man wearing it looked like a giant as he made his way toward her camp. Wuuthrad would earn his keep hacking through that armor if the stranger attacked.

He caught sight of her small fire, drawing toward it and scanning the line of trees for whoever had started it. Pausing where he stood just at the edge of the road, he lifted his hands up and drew off his helmet. As he shook loose his hair, Luthien gasped and gave away her position.


	6. Chapter 6

"If I'd been a bandit, you'd be dead," he said, stalking toward her with an unmistakable swagger that made her heart race even as her blood boiled.

"I heard you coming from a mile away." She stepped out of the shadow of the tree that hid her and into the dim light of her own fire, an arrow pointed right at him. "I poisoned the tip of my arrow long before I even saw you coming up the path. I would have paralyzed you and then hacked off your head before you ever even knew I was there."

"I know you're angry with me, but poison, Luthien? Really?" He tightened his lips in disapproval, lifting his hand into his hair.

"What are you doing here, Ulfric?"

"I made a promise to you."

"And I told you I needed to do this alone."

"Do you really think so little of me that you actually believed I_wouldn't_ come after you?" He lifted his arms, crossing them over his chest. "The night you told me you carried my son I said I would follow you into the depths of Oblivion if that was where you had to go. I meant it."

"Go home, Ulfric." She sighed, not wanting to think about his honey-tongued promises and certainly not while gazing across a moonlit glen into his sad eyes.

"No," he said, shrugging his shoulders up and stalking into her campsite as if his declaration of refusal ended the discussion. "I did a lot of thinking when I was on the road alone behind you. Whether you want to believe it, or not, you need me right now, just as much as I need you."

She laughed, not realizing how ridiculous she sounded until it echoed off the mountainside and reverberated back to her in sharp stabs of sarcasm. Shrinking back a little, she felt her lips tighten. "You don't need me."

"You're wrong," he said simply, hunkering down near the fire to warm his hands. "I do need you, just like you need me, and I'm going to prove it to you. That's why I'm here."

"You're here because you can't stand that I told you not to come, and you had to throw your weight around, just like you always do, to get what you want. Even if you don't really want it at all."

Ignoring her statement, he continued to rub his hands together in front of the fire, the gold of his wedding band catching light and glinting in the dark like some warm reminder from Mara of the promises they'd once made to each other. Damn Mara; she thought. To the Void with her and her blessings. Both times she'd fallen under the protection of Mara's loving gaze had turned out quite disastrously, and though she wanted things to be right between her and Ulfric again, she didn't know if that was even possible.

"I saw you fight the dragon in Shor's Stone today. If the villagers hadn't backed him into a corner and weakened him before you got there, do you think you could have taken him so easily?" When she didn't answer, he went on as if her silence required pointing out, "You are out of practice, Dragonborn."

Luthien brought her arms up over her chest, hugging herself against the chill in the air. Looking down at the ground beneath her feet, she reluctantly admitted, "I know," with a heavy sigh.

"That doesn't make you weak," he said, as if to reassure her. "It just means you are out of practice, and if the villagers are right, and you climb Northwind to face not one, but two dragons at the Summit, you will not be coming back down that mountain alive." She hated that he was right. "And what good is a Dragonborn to her people if she is dead?"

"Point taken." She dropped down across the fire from him, avoiding his eyes.

Ulfric laid down his axe and unshouldered the pack he carried with him, lowering it to the ground and opening it to sort through it until he found what he was looking for. Drawing out a bottle of Nord mead, he tugged the cork out and dropped back onto the ground, situating himself until he was comfortable and then tipping the bottle to his lips.

"I raided Wuunferth's potions stock before I left. I brought everything he had in his cupboards. Healing potions, potions to recharge and strengthen your magicka and stamina."

"Thank you."

He only nodded.

For a long time they were silent, and try as she might to avoid looking at him, she found herself gazing across the fire and meeting his eyes more than once. She wondered what he was really thinking, coming after her like that. What agenda had driven him from the comfort of his palace and into the world? Surely it was not out of love for her. No matter what he said, she didn't believe he was capable of loving anyone, despite his expectation that everyone who came near him love him with all their heart or suffer his unyielding wrath. The night he'd asked her to marry him had not been some romantic display from a heart that couldn't live without her love; it had been a strategic alignment, a future king looking for a strong queen his people would look up to when his actions brought them nothing but doubt and confusion.

And it was surely no wonder his subjects had doubt, considering the kind of man Ulfric was. Her own experience with him had brought her plenty of doubt in the last year. He'd manipulated her into loving him—though he was not entirely to blame for that. She'd let herself weaken against him, fallen prey to the soft side of him few people ever saw, and after his seed had taken root inside her, she'd grown conflicted in her love for him. After he shared his plan to send their son away, she'd hated herself for ever believing he would be a good husband to her.

Instead of a comfortable home, Ulfric gave her a palace to live in. Instead of filling that cold palace with the warmth and laughter of their children, he'd sent their only son from her to be raised by old monks under terms that would never even allow her to see the boy until he was a man. She understood why it had to be done, but that didn't make it okay in her heart. Learning that he had purposely kept Farkas, her only remaining family, away from her was the final straw that broke her already failing spirit.

If he could do those things to his own wife, what would he do to the people of Skyrim he claimed to love so deeply it made his heart ache?

Just looking at him made her feel sick and angry all over again, so she withdrew into the hood of her cloak and closed her eyes as she pulled the fabric around her, listening to the distant rage of dragons in the night. Whatever Ulfric's reasons were for following her, she wasn't going to let him get under her skin again.

"What's your plan?" he finally broke the silence.

"Make my way up the mountain by day, sneak in and catch them off guard under cover of darkness tomorrow night."

"The mountain will be treacherous, icy in many places and it will be difficult to navigate. We could go through the Northwind mine. It comes out just under the peak and might give us a bit of an advantage. We could catch them by surprise."

"That mine's been abandoned so long, I wonder if going through wouldn't be more treacherous than the mountainside."

Nodding, he corked his mead and pushed up off the ground to stand. "I will follow your lead." Was he joking? Laying some trap for her to fall into? Ulfric Stormcloak followed no one's lead. "You should rest. I'll take first watch."

As she nestled into her bedroll and started to close her eyes, she felt her blood begin to boil again when she realized that despite him saying he would follow her lead, he'd swept into her mission and taken control of it. Asking about her plan, sending her to bed so he—the big strong man—could watch over his woman and protect her as she slept. But she was too tired and annoyed to argue with him about it, so instead she lay awake for a long time trying to make sense of the chaos in her mind.

She hated to admit that he was right, but she did need help. She just wished it wasn't him who'd offered it to her. That dragon in Shor's Stone had been a challenge, and though she was sure she could have bested it without the help of the villagers, it would have been a close battle. It was foolish to march into a dragon's lair unprepared, especially when more than one dragon waited there to meet her.

On the other hand, she didn't know what she could expect from Ulfric in the face of a greater enemy. He'd spent much of the war for Skyrim's independence on his throne planning victory speeches and strategizing from a distance. They'd fought side by side through Solitude in the final battle, and she'd been proud to see firsthand how fierce a warrior her husband truly was, but that had been a battle against men, not winged beasts with breath of ice and fire and booming voices unlike anything he'd ever fought in his life. And fierce as he was, Ulfric was not exactly a young man in his prime anymore.

Rolling onto her back, she stretched her neck toward where he'd perched near the edge of the trees. She could see only his profile, the long shadow of his nose, closed mouth twisting a little as he chewed at the inside of his lip. Cold wind whispered through his hair, pushing the strands across his scarred cheek, long braid fluttering softly beside his ear. A wolf's howl in the distant turned his head right, obscuring him from view and she thought it was for the best anyway that she couldn't see him. Just looking at him had stirred her emotions inside her, her heart aching for his strong arms around her, warming her against the cold that seeped beneath her cloak and chilled her to the bone. She curled onto her side, facing away from him then until troubled sleep claimed her.

She dreamed of Alduin; the same dream she'd been dreaming since Hundr's life sparked in her womb. Two children in her arms, eyes like tempered steel that looked to her for protection as the black-winged nightmare's shadow blotted out the light of the sun at their backs. When he landed in front of her, she held her sons close, but in a brave effort to stand beside her, the two of them lifted their small voices in chorus with hers, shouting back at the dragon.

Ulfric did not wake her so she could take over watch, and when she stirred in the frigid hour just before dawn, it was to the scent of meat roasting over an impromptu cooking spit, pheasant by the smell of it. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, a soft smile stealing across his lips when he saw she was awake.

"They're easier to take down with an arrow if you can find them roosted in the trees," he noted when she sat up. "My father taught me that when I was just a boy."

She resisted the urge to start the day being cruel, biting her tongue instead of pointing out that he would never get to pass that knowledge onto his own son. She wondered if he ever even had regret about all the things he'd never get to teach him, all he'd given up when he'd sent his only son away to be raised by four old men who would never let him grow as spoiled and selfish as the man who'd fathered him. Maybe one day she would ask him, but for the moment she said nothing at all as she packed up her bedroll and then made her way to the fire to warm the cold from her skin.

He offered her first pick of the two birds he'd roasted, then sat back on the frozen ground as he pulled his own from the spit and turned his palm to catch the hot grease as it pooled and dripped down onto his wooden plate. She'd never really been in the field with him, had never thought about the skills he must possess as a soldier. He and Galmar had been Legionnaires once, soldiers in the Great War between the Dominion and the Empire, enduring things in that time that had lit a fire of hate for all elvenkind so strong in him that even other soldiers he'd once fought beside during that war couldn't understand.

They ate in silence so still, not even the birds dared tweet as the edge of the sky began to grey with oncoming dawn. From time to time she caught him looking over at her as he picked the meet from those brittle bones with his teeth, but he said nothing.

After they finished breaking their fast and packed up the rest of their camp, Ulfric put out the fire while Luthien surveyed the hidden trail that would lead them up the mountainside. He approached, glancing over her shoulder at the map and then following her gaze to the game trail they would be following. It was going to be a long, dangerous hike, the mountainside slick with ice so thick in some places it would almost be impossible to navigate, but that had never stopped her before.

They kept their silence as they began the journey northward, an odd thing for Ulfric, whom she had always thought liked the sound of his own voice more than anyone else she'd ever met. Farkas teased her once that she must have had some secret thing for talkers; Vilkas had also liked the sound of his own voice. Sometimes when they lay in bed together at night, Ulfric would talk and talk for hours and she would just listen, only speaking if he asked her a question or if he was silent so long she thought maybe he'd finally fallen asleep._She_ had liked the sound of his voice then too, even after they'd returned to Windhelm from Solitude and she'd known she would have to give the life inside her away. His soothing, deep tone in the dark had made her feel safe, and for a time she was able to hide from even the truth.

She listened to the sound of his breath, which puffed past her like steam whenever he drew close to her back, and wondered why a man who loved the sound of his own voice more than anything else in the world wasn't talking.


	7. Chapter 7

Several times that day as they journeyed, dragon shadow passed over their backs, sometimes just one, other times two, as the beasts left their home, perhaps in search of their fallen brother. Ducking into cover, their bodies so close she could smell the musty scent of sweat and leather on his skin, Ulfric's hand would lift to rest on her shoulder as if he were holding onto her when he craned his neck to watch their great, scaled bellies pass overhead.

"My father had a pack of warhounds when I was small, and Galmar and I used to play at dragonslaying. We would chase the hounds around the yard with our wooden blades, yelling out dragon shouts we made up to drive back the beasts." He nudged her to move forward again, once the dragon had passed. "Before Helgen, dragons were just a legend. They seemed so vulnerable and small in my imagination, but now…"

"Now they are real?" She glanced back over her shoulder at him and he nodded, his eyes wider than usual as he secured his footing behind her and waited for her to progress.

She had expected the ice to thicken as they scaled the pass, but the higher they drew to the mountain's peak, the warmer the air grew. Clear water trickled down the rock in rivulets, making for slick stone Luthien lost her footing against several times. Ulfric's strong hands were always there to catch her before she stumbled backward, gripping the waist of her armor and holding her steady until she righted herself again.

The passage began to widen, almost into a direct road that led straight to the lair of the beasts, and when she caught sight of an abandoned shack in the distance, she wondered how long it had been since Northwind Summit had provided safe haven to the miners who'd once dug deep into the belly of the mountain for ore. They were able to keep their footing once they reached the old road, but there were few trees and Ulfric muttered to her that he worried the dragons would spot them in the open and roast them where they stood if they lingered too long on that path.

Luthien agreed with a nod, and they headed left, into the alcove that led into the mine. It was only midday, the trek up the mountainside taking less time than she'd calculated, and the dragons had yet to return from whatever havoc they were wreaking on the world below. They ducked left, sneaking into the shack just beyond the exit from the mine. Slipping into the structure, Luthien slid her back down the furthest wall to keep her eye on the skies and Ulfric lingered in the right corner beside her.

She could hear the distant chant of a dragon word wall calling out to her soul, but she couldn't answer, not until the dragons were gone and it was safe. It had been a long time since she'd come across a word wall and learned a new shout. Master Arngeir had once told her there were dozens of them scattered all across Skyrim, and she had only barely begun to scratch the surface.

Thinking of Master Arngeir brought Hundr to her thoughts, and she closed her eyes a moment to call his precious face to mind. Surely Farkas had arrived at High Hrothgar already, delivered the child unto the Greybeards and begun making his way back home again. He'd said she would know where to find him when she was ready, but she didn't know when that day would come. Part of her was ashamed she hadn't realized during those long months he was absent that it had been Ulfric keeping Farkas away from her all along.

He'd clearly shown his jealousy before they were even married, flexing his possessiveness with her when she'd admitted that her heart still ached with grief for Vilkas. Ulfric had told her he wished she'd come straight to him after Helgen; she would have always been his then and he would never have had to share her with another man. In the end, she supposed it had been her own fault, stoking the fires of his jealous heart every time she spoke of Farkas. Her brother in blood and battle, her best friend, she and Farkas had been through so much together and they shared a bond unlike anything she could ever share with her husband. Even Vilkas had commented more than once on the closeness she and his brother shared, but it had never been like that… had it?

She'd always known how Farkas felt about her, and early on she'd entertained a few thoughts about the possibility of a future with him, but it had never gone beyond thinking. Even after Vilkas was gone, she knew she could never be the woman Farkas wanted her to be. She would never know if she'd gone to him out of some strange need to fill the void Vilkas's death left inside her, or not, and she could not do that to him.

Even still… Ulfric had no right to do what he'd done.

"I don't know if I will ever forgive you," she broke the silence, not glancing over her shoulder at him. She could feel him staring at her, those sad forlorn eyes boring into her, pleading with her to look at him, but she didn't.

"I hope one day you will," he murmured. "That you will see I only did the things I did out of love for you."

She wanted to laugh. "You don't love anything or anyone but yourself, Ulfric."

"That's not true," he insisted. "I love you, and I will prove that much to you before all is said and done."

"Is that why you're really here?" She finally looked over at him, her eyes narrowing as they met with his. "To prove yourself to me?"

"I'm here because you need me," he said. "And I want you to believe in me, to know that even though I hurt you, I can be the man you need me to be."

"The man I needed you to be disappeared the day he gave our unborn child to the Greybeards."

He looked away then, shame coloring his cheeks red, or maybe it was just the cold. "I will be that man again, Luthien. I promise you."

There were so many things she wanted to say to him then, most of them probably best left unspoken, but she never got to say them because the heavy flap of wings cracked against the sky as the dragons made their way home to Northwind Summit. The smaller of the two settled just outside the shack they were waiting in and the other perched atop the word wall calling out to her.

Drawing her mind to the task at hand, she turned quietly into the wall, peering through the cracks in the wood at the enemy beyond those walls. She didn't think… no, she knew she couldn't take on both of them at once, not even with Ulfric fighting beside her. She needed to find a way to separate them, take them on one at a time, but as she listened to them grunt and growl, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath their feet as they settled in, she didn't think either of them was just going to take off anytime soon.

_Think_, she told herself. _Think._ Of all the magic she knew, all the shouts, there had to be something she could employ to distract them. Maybe if she cast her fire atronarch near the trees, it would be enough to busy the one on the ground while she and Ulfric attacked the one on the wall. If she handed Ulfric her Staff of the Familiar, he could cast another distraction, but she didn't think even two conjurations would be powerful enough to hold both dragons back once they moved in to attack.

What she needed was a way to get that dragon on the ground as far away from the Summit as possible, and as she rested her head against the wall behind her, she flipped through all the information she'd stored in her mind over the last four years. Spells, shouts, tactical maneuvers… And then she remembered.

There was a shout she learned at Shearpoint, while she and Farkas had been traveling all across Skyrim in search of the staff of Magnus. They'd nearly died battling the dragon priest buried there, but the shout she'd learned had been well worth their efforts in the end. She'd used it numerous times in the deep crypts, drawing draugr away from their footsteps and sending them in search of them elsewhere so they could more easily sneak through to their destination.

It would be risky, but it might just work.

Swallowing against the nervous itch rising in her throat, she drew in a deep breath and focused her energy. Ulfric reached over to nudge her, eyebrows furrowed in question when she glanced over at him. She lifted her finger to her lips and then shouted, her voice echoing off the distant canyon as if she'd bellowed from far away. "ZUL MEY GUT!"

The dragon on the ground stomped backward, and for a moment she feared he'd heard where that voice had originated from and was about to unleash heavy fire on the shack where they hid, but then the dragon on the wall bellowed out, "Dovahkiin."

"Dovahkiin," the dragon on the ground agreed.

The words they spoke to each other didn't make sense to her, but it was only a few seconds before the dragon on the word wall lifted off into the sky to investigate, leaving behind his smaller brother for her and Ulfric to attack.

She waited until the dragon was little more than a smear of flapping wings on the twilight sky, and then she unhitched Wuuthrad and charged out of the shack, rushing forward with a battle cry that caught her enemy off guard. As he whirled around to face him, she sunk her blade into his hind leg, and he let out a furious cry of protest, swinging his tail to throw her off. She yanked back, the force of dislodging her axe stumbling her backward, but Ulfric ran in with his sword raised high and his voice at the ready.

"FUS RO DAH!" The words clapped like thunder off the stone behind them, the dragon startled by the sound as it braced itself against Ulfric's unrelenting force, claws dug into the earth to hold it steady.

Even if it didn't send the dragon flying backward as it did most other foes, it stunned him a little, giving Luthien time to pick herself up and resecure Wuuthrad in her hands. They attacked again, together, driving the dragon to the rim of the summit with heavy blows. The power of her voice was still not strong enough to shout again after she'd thrown it across the canyon, but Ulfric's voice had recharged. The dragon's back feet struggled against the crumbling rock at the edge, but it couldn't hold on when Ulfric unleashed his force again, sending the stunned beast backward with just enough edge that he went flailing over the mountain, screaming in rage before his heavy body crashed into the stone, spine breaking under the power of his own weight.

"That's one," Ulfric grinned over at her as he stepped back from the edge of the Summit.

As soon as it shuddered its last exhale, the life force inside it spiraled up the mountainside, pouring into her body until she shuddered and shook it off.

"Don't get too cocky," she said, jerking her gaze toward the stream of fire raging toward them from the sky. "Big brother is back, and he doesn't look happy."

The heat of his flame rushed out at them in waves as they staggered back, away from the cliff and toward the word wall behind them. The closer they drew, the louder those chanting voices grew inside her until she almost couldn't resist them anymore. But she had to; she had to face the monstrous, golden-winged beast that had just landed in front of her, streams of flame rushing out to meet her as she ducked behind her shield to block it.

She couldn't see Ulfric through the wall of fire, but she could hear his might voice echoing above it, the ring of hard steel on scale as he distracted the dragon from its task with heavy blows from the left. It struck the ground with its tail, rearing its might head back to draw in another breath, but Luthien had her voice back, and she shouted out to meet his strike with breath of frost as she bellowed, "FO KRAH!"

"Ha! You're bleeding, dragon!" Ulfric laughed. "Maybe you should fly away and see to your wounds."

For a moment, she thought it was going to take his advice, sweeping its heavy wings down to push off the ground as she unhitched her bow and lined the tip of her arrow with its throat. She'd forgotten she'd poisoned the arrow, and even though it was just a weak stamina poison, the dragon raged when it pierced through an opening in his scales. A droplet of blood spattered down on her forehead, dripping over her brow as she strung another arrow, Ulfric standing across from her doing the same.

Her second arrow missed the mark, but Ulfric's tore through its wing, lodging in the central joint and making it scream. It circled back around, rocks tumbling down the mountain with the force of its landing just in front of them. It swished out its tail at her, the heavy hit denting the chest of her armor and making it hard for her to catch her breath as she grappled to stand again. She grasped for Wuuthrad and charged in, swinging wide, but just barely cleaving away a layer of heavy scale and drawing blood.

Ulfric circled around back, his axe sinking into the dragon's haunch while he drove a one-handed blade into its belly, dragging downward as it writhed and bellowed in protest. Turning toward him, it opened its mouth to scorch its attacker where he stood, but Luthien hacked Wuuthrad down into his neck, severing through thick scale. She yanked back and brought the blade down again, hammering away at the same wound with such fury and force she'd completely severed its head with her fourth strike. The massive, horned head fell first, body teetering on unsure feet before tilting left. Ulfric backed out of the way just in time, a spray of blood and stone clinking off his armor as the dragon fell.

"Damn you to Oblivion," he cursed, kicking its corpse for good measure.


	8. Chapter 8

Luthien caught her breath, leaning down over the dragon's corpse and allowing its soul into her before she rose again and walked to the word wall it had been protecting. As the power of the word swept out to meet her, it refreshed her spirit, invigorating her with its force until she and the word were one. So wrapped up in that moment, she hadn't heard Ulfric come up behind her until his hand came down on her shoulder.

"What was that?"

"Aura whisper," she murmured, turning back to look at him, still glowing as the thu'um mingled with the dragon souls inside her, body and mind learning the way of that word.

Squinting, he shook his head. "Aura whisper?"

"A word of power. The dragons were protecting it."

"From you?" He followed as she made her way from the wall and toward the shack.

"From me, from anyone who might wish to learn the way of their voice and use it against them. Sometimes there will be a priest there, guarding the word as well. I am grateful there was not one here."

"A dragon priest? Master Arngeir told me about them years ago."

She began to strip out of her armor, unbuckling the straps and wrenching it off to relieve the pressure from her chest. The chest plate was dented and cracked, and as she drew it back to look it over she saw it was washed in dragon blood. Eorlund Grey-Mane had given her that armor the day she'd joined the companions, Vilkas telling her to go up and get some decent armor to avoid stoking unnecessary confrontations from Imperial sympathizers in Whiterun. It had seen her through more battles than she cared to remember, and its breaking felt like a bad omen, but she wasn't sure Eorlund had designed it for her with dragon battle in mind.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, stepping into the shack behind her.

She hadn't even thought about whether or not she was hurt, only that taking her armor off had made it easier for her to breathe. Glancing down at her the torn mail underneath, she had no wounds, at least none that were bleeding, but she would have a nasty bruise before long.

"That monstrosity destroyed my armor."

"We'll get you new armor when we make our way back to Shor's Stone. Ebony armor. The blacksmith there is no Eorlund Grey-Mane, but his work is good." His hand lowered onto her bare shoulder, but she didn't have the energy to shrug it away.

"I don't want Ebony armor," she sighed. "This was my first real armor. It feels like… the end of an era."

"It's not the end of an era," he chuckled. "Think of it as the beginning of something new. I can't even begin to count how many times I've had to trade in the old, comfortable and familiar for something stronger, and you need something stronger. Something that's going to keep you alive."

"Maybe Eorlund can fix this," she lamented, dropping it to the ground near her pack and reaching up to run her hands into the fiery locks of her loose red hair. "We should rest here tonight, travel back down through the mine tomorrow morning and head into Shor's Stone to let the people know their dragons are dead."

"Of course," he nodded concession.

"I'll take first watch if you want to rest."

"I think we'll be safe here," he said. "The dragons probably kept the bears and cats away, and it'll be awhile before they start to venture back into this place. We can both rest here in the shack, but if it would make you feel safer to keep watch…"

"I suppose you're right," she gave in. "But no fire."

He began to take off his own armor, stretching out of it almost gratefully as he flexed the muscles of his shoulders together and drew his arms forward again. By the time Luthien had sat down to take some bread, cheese and leftover pheasant from her bag to share with him, it had grown dark outside and only the light of the moons lingered over the Summit.

Huddled in his cloak beside her, she could barely see him. When he passed the bottle of mead across the dark space between them, their fingers touched and he held onto the bottle long after she'd reached to take it from him. His thumb moved over hers, soft strokes of comfort circling her skin. He brought his other hand up and rested it atop her fingers, his skin warming hers as he held it there.

She shouldn't let him touch her, she thought. It might give him the wrong idea, but even she was a bit surprised when he finally withdrew his hands and announced that he was tired and would take some rest. She had been expecting him to try and cull her anger with kisses, the lingering adrenaline of a hard battle won driving them into each other's arms in a victorious fit of passion. If he had, she probably wouldn't have been able to resist him, but he hadn't and she was disappointed in herself for feeling disappointed.

It would be easy to fall back into old patterns with him, to take false comfort in the security of his arms.

Long after he'd gone to sleep, she sat awake in the dark with that bottle of mead listening to the familiar draw of his heavy breath as he slept and wondering if men like Ulfric could really change. She wanted to believe he could, but she had spoken true when she'd told him she didn't know if she could ever trust or believe in him again.

The people of Shor's Stone greeted them like heroes, bowing to their King and Queen when they approached with word that their dragons were dead. Luthien lingered behind Ulfric, not in the mood for posturing, and though she expected him to bask in the glory of their praises all afternoon, even he didn't seem to relish in that limelight. He told them he only wanted his people to be safe, and then he followed Filnjar, the blacksmith, to his forge, and had the man craft a strong set of Ebony armor for his queen.

As she drew into it, she couldn't deny the snug, perfect fit. Her movements were more fluid, and though it was heavier than her old Skyforge Steel wolf armor, it didn't feel that way at all. When Ulfric tried to pay the man for his hard work and the valuable Ebony, a scarce commodity in Shor's Stone, Filnjar refused the coin, saying it was the least he could do for the Dragonborn Queen who had rid Shor's Stone of the triple menace that had been haunting their skies and their nightmares for too long.

"Your people love you fiercely," Ulfric said once they were back on the road again, heading north to Kynesgrove. "When word of your deeds spreads, their love will only continue to grow until every bard in Skyrim is singing of your great deeds."

"I don't do this so people will love me," she told him. "I do it because I must."

"Your people love you nonetheless, my queen. You are their champion."

"Well, let's hope that I live through this meeting with Alduin, so I can continue to bring peace to the skies of this land."

"How can you be sure it's Alduin you go to face?" he asked.

"Black scale, red eyes… there is no other like him."

"When you were doing all that research, did you find anything that might actually help us against him?"

"Not a gods damned thing."

"Then perhaps we should go to Riverwood before we head to Kynesgrove. Maybe the Blade woman you met there could be of some use to you?"

"I don't know." She'd been set on going to Kynesgrove, but maybe Ulfric was right. She'd never faced Alduin, not since Helgen, not outside her dreams, and not even Master Arngeir had given her much insight when she'd asked about the first dragon. It had seemed strange to her at the time that not even the Greybeards seemed to know how to help her, and sometimes still bothered her when she thought about it. "We're a long way from Riverwood."

"It's merely a suggestion," he shrugged. "Wherever you lead, I will follow."

"What is that? Me leading, you following? It's got to be killing you."

"I am only here to serve you." Ulfric lifted his ebony shield. "Think of me as your sword and your shield, my queen."

Rolling her eyes, she looked away, refusing to give in to his jest. "We will go to Riverwood," she decided. "But not because you suggested it."

"Was that me who suggested it? I thought it was your idea."

"Enough, Ulfric. Whatever game this is, just stop it."

From the corner of her eye, she thought she caught him grinning, playful and without malice, but she was not ready to laugh with him. So instead, she said nothing else to him for the remainder of the day, and when they made camp that night she consulted the map to plot a route to Riverwood. If they continued to head south, further into The Rift, they could pick up the road west just past Rift Tower and Snapleg Cave. It would be a long journey through the foothills, almost worth going east into Riften to buy horses.

Ulfric watched her from across the fire, spooning stew into his mouth as she poured over the map and chewed at the side of her mouth while she thought. "We need to go further south," she announced. "Into Riften to buy a couple strong horses, refresh some of our supplies. It'll cut our travel time in half."

"Though it would be the same if you count the number of days it would take to double back and head down to Riften. We may as well go North to Windhelm and get supplies from our own people and then head west down into Whiterun Hold."

"All the people of Skyrim are our people now, Ulfric, not just the people of Eastmarch," she pointed out. "But you can go back to Windhelm if you like. I won't stop you."

She reached for the wooden bowl of stew he'd laid down on the ground beside her almost half an hour earlier. Lifting it into her hands, it had quickly cooled, and she sipped at the lukewarm broth while waiting for his response.

"To Riften, then."

"To Riften," she nodded.

Most people didn't like Riften, and with good reason. It was the infamous home to the failing Thieves Guild and Imperial sympathizer, Maven Black-Briar, who despite Stormcloak victory, still held the little fishing town under her heavy thumb. Ulfric had advised her on the road to think twice about walking through the piers of Lake Honrich broadcasting who they were or why they were there. Both of them hid within the hoods of their cloaks as they hiked down the stairs into the lower level slums of Riften in search of the alchemist so Luthien could restock her potions.

Unfortunately, word of strangers in Riften spread like wildfire, and when they made their way back to the surface streets the guards at the front gates drew them aside for questioning. "We're just travelers," Luthien assured them. "On our way to Riverwood. We stopped to buy horses from your stablemaster and refresh our supplies."

"Then surely you're aware of the exit tax here in Riften. Every traveler is required to pay 500 gold Septims when leaving the city."

She could feel Ulfric tensing beside her, not used to being talked down to the way his own guards were speaking to them, but Luthien had dealt with the guards in Riften before. She knew how to handle them.

"Huh, that's funny," she said. "The last time I was here, you told me it was 250 Septims to enter the city. Sounds like you need to get your story straight when hassling people who've been here before."

"I uh… Hey, keep it down, all right? It's all in good fun. Just a bit of a rib, to see if you'd fall for it. That's all."

"We didn't," she grinned. "And the next time you even think about scamming a traveler passing through Riften, you better hope I don't hear of it. Or I'll take you straight to the High King and Queen to answer for your crimes."

He laughed a little when she said that, muttering under his breath that the High King and Queen of Skyrim didn't give a damn about the people of Riften, as she and Ulfric passed through the gates.

Ulfric fumed beneath his hood, letting her deal with the horsemaster while he stood outside the stables staring back at the gates with fire in his eyes. He didn't unleash his tirade until they were on horseback and riding west, away from the city.

"That guard had a lot of nerve, wearing my colors while he spoke of us that way."

"There are a lot of people who speak of you that way, Ulfric." It almost stunned her that he hadn't ever realized that before. "Being High King hasn't changed people's opinions about the things you've done. Not everyone thinks you are a hero. I'm sure if he had known who he was talking to…"

"It shouldn't matter if they know who they are talking to. I command respect in my own country."

"Then you have to earn it."

"I have to… _I_have to earn it?" When he laughed there was no real amusement in his tone, only anger. "After all the things I have done for this country, for my people. I bled for every single one of them… For _their_ freedom."

"Not everyone sees things that way."

He brooded for the remainder of the day, scowling into his hood as they rode side by side. When they made camp that night on the other side of Treva's Watch, Ulfric threw down his bag and without a word stalked off into the sparse woods near the river with his bow and quiver. Luthien started a fire, her mind occupied with his righteous anger. Had he really expected that all those who opposed him in the war for Skyrim would fall to their knees in reverence when all was said and done?

She had been trying to understand the way Ulfric's mind worked since she met him. He commanded unyielding love and allegiance, never taking kindly to anyone who questioned him or his right to rule, but he needed to learn that while a kingdom could be bought with force and coin, respect could not. It was earned with deeds and valor, both of which he kept on short supply.

His vision was all too often obscured by his temper, a temper strong enough to shatter an empire—maybe even the land he claimed to love with all his heart, if he didn't learn to keep it in check. He often dreamed of the songs bards would one day sing of King Ulfric, but she feared sometimes they would remember him as a tyrant. Worst of all, at forty-four, he was not a young man anymore, and he was set in his ways. Her father used to say an old dog couldn't unlearn the things he'd been taught when he was just a pup, but if Ulfric couldn't find a balance between what he wanted and what was best for his people, he would doom them all.

He said he had married her because she spoke to him with her heart, but none of those were things she'd ever felt strong enough to say to him. Perhaps now, as they were already teetering on the edge of disaster together, everything hanging in the balance…


	9. Chapter 9

When he finally came back to camp, it was with a first year stag over his shoulder. It was more meat than the two of them would ever be able to eat, but she could cook as much of it as they could carry and they would take it with them. While he skinned and gutted the deer, Luthien lingered behind him, watching him work with his hands in ways she'd never expected to see. She'd always thought him pampered and spoiled, too proud to carry out such common tasks, but twice on that strange road they traveled together, he'd surprised her.

"You're angry," she said, ignoring his glare at her statement of the obvious. "I understand that, Ulfric. I really do, but you're acting like a child over the words of a stranger."

"I am not acting like a child." He jerked his dagger through sinew and joint, breaking the last bit of bone away with a rough twist of his hand and tossing the broken leg into the woods for the wolves to gnaw on.

"On Northwind Summit, you seemed truly surprised when I said I thought you didn't love anything or anyone but yourself, and you said that you would prove to me that wasn't true. That you would be the man I needed you to be, but it isn't just me you have to prove yourself to, don't you get that? That man, the man I need… the man Skyrim needs you to be doesn't care what others think of him. His pride isn't so easily wounded by a stranger's words because he believes in the things he is doing with all of his heart. All of the things he is doing. You have a good clear vision of what you want, but sometimes your temper gets in your way and it's going to destroy you and everything you want for this land."

"I believed in what I was doing when I sent our son to the Greybeards." He lifted his strong eyes to hers, the light of the fire behind her lingering in his gaze making it difficult to make out his expression. "With all my heart, I believed that I was doing the right thing for my son, what needed to be done to protect him, and yet every time you look at me it wounds more than just my pride."

"This isn't about that," she murmured, turning away from the burn of his desperate gaze.

"It will always be about that, woman," he countered. "For the rest of our days together, no matter how many or few we have left, that will be what stands between us like a wall of stone. Luthien, I have never doubted anything in my life. Never questioned a single thing I've done, but one look from you and I feel as though everything I've ever done was wrong."

"You're the only one who can make it right."

"I don't know what I can do to make it right." He threw up his arms. "I can't take it back now. It's done, and no matter how much you hate me for it, I know in my heart he will be safer there. Our lives are not but constant struggle and war, Luthien. Where would he be right now if he were still with us? Would you carry him into battles with dragons, strapped to your back, leave him at home where he would constantly long for you, or ignore the voice of the gods calling you to do their will, letting our people suffer so you could stay home and be his mother?"

She knew everything he said was true. She'd known it when he'd made the decision months before, but it still didn't lessen the pain. It made her want to stamp her feet like a child and keen at the unfairness of it all. She'd never asked to be the Dragonborn. She hadn't asked the gods to put a baby in her belly she would never be able to keep, no matter how badly she wanted it.

"I just wish…" Her words lingered there on the wind, the thought unfinished in her mind. She wished so many things, it was impossible to put them all into words.

His eyebrow arched upward, as if they were finally going to get to the root of everything. "That your first husband had lived and you had never come to me?"

She gasped, her hand lifting to cover the sound after it escaped her. "Why would you even say something so cruel?"

"Surely, you must think about it." He rose from the carcass, two flank cuts of venison in his bloody hands as he walked toward the fire and dropped them into the cooking pot where they immediately began to steam and sizzle. "Why do you think I sent his brother away from you? His twin brother, no less, a constant reminder of what you lost always at your back, following you around like a lost dog."

"This, Ulfric. This is what I'm talking about! Can you even hear yourself? How selfish you sound?"

"Because I can't stand the thought of you with another man?" he shouted back at her. "Even if I don't deserve you, I can't stomach the idea that he would care for you better than I could. Give you a simpler life without bloodshed, battle and war, a life where you could come home and gather your children close to you knowing that everything you did out here, you did to keep them safe."

"I don't want a simpler life, Ulfric." She stalked toward the fire, where he'd knelt to wash the blood from his hands in the slushy, melting snow. She blocked out the fire, casting a shadow across him that made it hard to see his face. "I just want the life I have to be a good one. I want to know that all the things I've done were the right things, to believe that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing what the gods have planned for me. I want to know in my heart that whatever their twisted plan for me, even you were a part of that plan for a reason."

He stood, drying his hands on his cloak, his lips pursed tight together, the lines around his mouth disappearing into his beard. She waited for him to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he cooked and she watched, playing and replaying that entire conversation over and again in her mind.

She didn't want there to be a wall between them. She wanted to be able to forgive him and draw comfort from the man who'd promised before Mara to stand by her through everything—prosperity and poverty, joy and hardship—through this life and the next. She'd promised to share his burdens and sorrows, as well as his joys and triumphs, to love him and stand beside him too, but the only way they could stand together was if she let go of her anger and forgave him.

How could she trust him, knowing he'd gone behind her back that way? Were there other things he'd done, things she didn't even know about?

Everything he did seemed to benefit Ulfric and Ulfric alone. And then she would remember something gentle he'd done, something thoughtful and she would tell herself there was so much more to him just waiting to come out. If other people could only see that side of him… If he could just see it in himself…

But maybe he did see the potential in himself to be a better man. Maybe that was what he really wanted. He _had_ come after her, even though she'd told him to stay away. He'd been so heartbroken when he asked her if she really believed he was the kind of man who'd just let her go off alone. That had to count for something, and the only way she'd ever know if he could really be the man she needed him to be was to give him another chance.

Wasn't that exactly what Maramal had talked about that long ago day when she'd first met him and bought that amulet of Mara from him in the Bee and the Barb, before she'd ever known what paths her young heart would follow?

"Love is patience," he'd said. "Love is kindness and forgiveness, but most of all, love is strength because it mirrors everything we must endure in this world, and to survive here we must be strong. Two is always stronger than one. Remember that."

And she loved him. Mara bless her, she did; even if he probably didn't deserve it.

Neither one of them ate much, just pushed the food around on their plates, both lost in thought. She wondered what he was thinking, and every time she lifted her gaze across the fire, he was looking at her too, wondering the same thing.

"You should rest," he finally said, throwing his unfinished food into the fire as he pushed up off the ground.

"I'm not tired. You can rest if you want to. I'll stand watch."

He conceded with a nod, too tired to argue, and then walked over to his bedroll to lie down. He shuffled for a little while before finally growing still, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. Ulfric was not a quiet sleeper, often filling the night with long snores loud enough to frighten off bears wandering nearby, but as she knelt near the fire keeping watch on their camp, he remained silent.

She didn't know how much time passed before he got up, two, maybe three hours. She'd watched the sliver of Secunda cradle into Masser as they passed slowly across an endless sky filled with stars. Occasionally she glanced back at the still figure behind her, but for the most part she watched the sky and wrestled with her thoughts.

All she could think about was Maramal—the very first time she'd spoken to him, the things he'd said to them both the day they were wed, the way Ulfric looked across the space between them before Mara's shrine, hands steady, eyes shining with confidence and pride. She even thought about what he'd said to her just after, when they were making their way to Whiterun. He'd reached over and touched her face with that gentleness she knew lived inside him, lamenting, "I would have liked to have seen you come to me at the altar dressed in blue silk, with golden flowers in your hair that brought out the light in your eyes."

She had loved him so much at that moment it made her heart ache. Mara bless her; she loved him still.

He approached, startling her from her thoughts when he lowered his large hand over her shoulder and saying nothing more than, "Sleep."

Lifting her hand up quickly, she caught him before he could withdraw, holding him there and leaning her back into his chest. He lowered his chin onto the top of her head, breathing her in as his strong fingers squeezed her tight muscle and then loosened as if he meant to pull back. She turned into him them, raising her gaze to look at him. His sad eyes always won her, their softness smoothing away the edges of her anger, quieting her resentments.

She brought her hand up to rest against his cheek, tilting her head as she studied him by the fading light of the fire. "I forgive you."

His heavy brow wrinkled and lowered over his eyes, as if he didn't believe her. Leaning back to look at her, she saw the corner of his mouth twitch as he opened it to speak, and then closed it again because he didn't know what to say. For a long time he just looked at her, eyes filled with sorrow and confusion, and then he finally asked, "Why?"

Hand still on his cheek, she tucked his braid behind his ear and said, "Because I love you."

"Woman…" he whispered. "I don't deserve you."

"Shh—" She quieted him by drawing her finger over his lips, and he kissed it, closing his eyes as she leaned in and replaced that finger with her mouth. She felt his hand on her waist, sliding around to rest on the small of her back before he swept her closer, drawing her into him.

It had only been a couple of weeks since he'd last kissed her, but it had been months since he'd kissed her like that. Or maybe he had always kissed her that way, and it had been her who'd been holding back, only going through the motions with him whenever they'd made love in those final days before their son had come into the world. She had told herself from the start that he would probably never love her, but what if she was wrong and he had loved her all along. She'd just been too blind to see it because the love she'd known with Vilkas had been so different.

Forgiving him made her feel as if the wall he'd said would always be between them could come down in time, and though they would never forget what they'd given away, they could heal together and try to find a way to move forward again.

Ulfric brought his other hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, fingers curling into it as he tightened his grip and held her against him. "I will make you proud to call me husband," he told her.

"I believe you."

Pulling back, he held her face in his hands as he pressed his lips against her forehead and said, "Sleep, my heart. The road ahead of us is long, and you will need your strength."


	10. Chapter 10

The road to Riverwood _was_long and cold, but with some of the tension between them relieved, Luthien and Ulfric traveled more easily together, hardly noticing the difficult terrain and heavy ice that seemed to pelt so hard it froze their clothes to their bodies. Finding a safe place to make camp was almost impossible, and though she worried they would run their horses to death, Ulfric insisted it would be best if they just kept moving.

He didn't say it out loud, but she knew he was thinking they would have been better off going north and making their way down through Whiterun Hold; and though two days earlier she would have hated giving him the satisfaction of knowing he'd been right, she told him as much as she chattered beneath her heavy cloak and he didn't rub it in.

The only real trouble they met with, besides the heavy ice and snow through the mountains, were frost trolls. It felt as if an entire army of the massive beasts had been waiting in the shadows of the trees for weary travelers to pass through. When they climbed down to face two of the burly monsters together, they lost one of their horses in the chaos. Forced to ride together, Ulfric took the reins and drove the beast hard through the rocky terrain until they came upon the ruins of Helgen in the dead of night.

"What was that?" they heard a voice say from within the walls. "Did you hear something?"

"Probably just the wind."

She looked to Ulfric, rolling her eyes at their luck. Who knew how many bandits had taken up residence in the burned and broken city? It turned out as they made their way through the gates that there were only five of them, but Ulfric and Luthien were exhausted and the ragged band of brigands gave them a run for their money. As she hunched over the last body, Ulfric went off to search out the ruins for anyone else who might have taken up hiding when the fighting started, finally reporting back to her that they were alone in the city.

"Do you think it's safe to sleep here tonight?"

"Safer here than on the road," he shrugged. "If there were any others here, they may come back, but if we take shelter in what's left of the keep, we should be all right. From the looks of those clouds, we'll be getting a storm soon."

She followed his gaze skyward, to the thick mass of dark clouds passing across Masser's light and looked toward the keep with a sigh.

Inside the shattered remains of Helgen Keep, they foraged for candles, and as they lit the remaining sconces still sturdy on the walls, they could hear skeever scurrying across the stone as old dust and cobwebs burned and filled the air with an acrid stench.

"I don't think the bandits ever even came in here." She trailed her finger through a layer of dust on the table almost a quarter of an inch thick and then wiped her hands together making a cloud of particles that tickled her nose.

"Maybe they were afraid," he said. "It feels strange in here, almost haunted, like the souls of all who died here that day still linger."

There were beds in the keep, but neither of them wanted to sleep where Imperial soldiers had once lain their heads. Luthien laid out their bedrolls in the middle of the floor, and they sat down across from each other to share dried venison and what little bread they had left between them. For a while they were quiet, the sound of the wind picking up outside and keening like a ghost through the ruined stone walls. She could easily see how one might feel uneasy inside those walls.

They hadn't spoken much since she'd forgiven him, the long road keeping them occupied, but it really did feel as if a huge weight had been lifted from them, and though she knew things would never be the same, she had hope that maybe they could somehow be better.

The few torches they had provided just enough light that they could see each other, and when she leaned back to look at him, Luthien noticed he was grinning thoughtfully to himself.

"What?" she asked. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I was just thinking, that's all." He tore a strip of venison and chewed it for a moment before sharing his thought. "This is a bit like a homecoming if you think about it. We are back in the very place that first brought us together, only we lived to tell about it. Helgen itself was not so lucky."

"I remember you that day," she told him. "I think about it sometimes, how much I admired you for standing proud against the Empire, as if you weren't afraid to die for what you fought for and believed in. I wanted to follow you out of Helgen and take up arms that day, but then Ralof's sister asked me to go to Whiterun."

"Mm," he nodded.

"Were you?"

"Afraid to die?" He shrugged a little, pushing another hunk of meat into his mouth. "I wasn't afraid of Tullius. He was a coward and a puppet. I would have died for Skyrim that day, if that was what the gods had wanted, but it would have been an awful way to go… without even a sword in my hand so I could go to the gods with honor."

"It would have made for a damn good story though."

He laughed softly, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "Indeed, it would have. Galmar and I used to make jokes about it, my head on a spike in Cyrodiil, fueling an already out of control fire only that much more. I suppose now that I think about how close it really came to happening, it's not so funny, but the fact that I lived that day always confirmed what I knew in my heart was right. I was doing the right thing." After a few thoughtful moments of silence, he asked, "What about you? Were you afraid that day?"

"I was terrified. I'd just lost everything I'd ever known, everything that made me feel safe, and I knew I was going to die too. I wasn't ready to die. I was barely nineteen, but I remember looking at you and thinking how brave you were. I wanted to be strong like you and Ralof, so I swallowed my tears and walked up to the block. I remember looking back at you as I knelt down, and I swore I thought you looked into my soul then and really saw me, but then the dragon came."

"Have you ever thought it a strange thing that the very dragon we go to fight is the one who saved your life?"

She nodded, reaching for the half-empty bottle of mead on the floor between them. "All the time. It's as if a part of me owes him something."

"A swift death, perhaps?" Ulfric mused.

"Maybe," she looked down at her hands. "Master Arngeir told me once only I could decide what was right when the time came for me to face him."

"You were so much younger then," he said quietly. "If I close my eyes I can still see you, a freckled, frightened girl in rags running into the tower behind Ralof, wide-eyed and trembling like a flower in the wind with a haze of dragon fire at your back." He reached across the space between them and brushed a lock of fiery hair from her cheek. "I should have known at that moment you were the lost part of me I had been searching for all my life, my woman. I just hadn't found you sooner because you hadn't been born yet."

"Ulfric," she tilted her face deeper into his palm, lips brushing across the creases and lines carved into his skin by the gods when they'd made him.

"Sometimes I feel as if all the things I did before I knew you were in anticipation of your coming to me, so I could raise you up and make you a queen when you arrived."

Closing her eyes, she felt him draw near, rising on his knees in front of her and lifting her face into his kiss. His gentle touch kindled a fire in her she hadn't been sure would ever burn again, soft heat fluttering and tingling in her belly as she opened her mouth to receive him, his warm tongue gliding across hers as he drew her upward and against his chest.

As they undressed each other, she heard the distant clamor of rolling thunder crack across the mountaintop. Ulfric laid her back into the bedroll behind her, falling in above her and trailing kisses down the length of her neck as he entered her for the first time since their son had been born. She arched into him, her heavy, aching breasts crushed under the weight of his chest every time he came down to meet her, mouths gasping against kisses as their soft moans echoed through the ruins of Helgen and rain battered old stone outside.

It didn't feel the same; at first she thought maybe it was just because it had been so long since they had come together that she could barely remember what it was supposed to feel like. Then she felt his warm breath against her ear as he descended, whispering, "My woman, I love you," and she knew what had changed. All that time they'd been together, he had never fully given all of himself to her; he'd held back, carefully guarding his heart against her for fear that she would undo him and make him look the fool.

He'd said he loved her only a handful of times in the year they'd been together, and perhaps he'd even believed it then too, but as he brought her to the brink of release and carried her over the edge with him, their bodies trembling together in pleasure, she knew for the first time he was truly allowing himself to feel it.

Spent, but satisfied, she laid against his chest in the crook of his arm, watching the tattered old Imperial banner across the wall flutter in the wind that broke through the cracks in the stone outside. She listened to his heart and breath as he stroked soft fingertips across her shoulder. There were no words, nothing that needed to be said, and that was okay. For the first time in a very long, she felt content, and though she had regrets about so many things, loving her husband was no longer among them.

"I am not afraid to die anymore," she finally said. "I've stood at death's door so many times since that day, I know one day I will have no choice but to walk through it."

"You are a brave warrior, heart of my heart."

"If facing Alduin means going to my death, I need to make things right with Farkas." She waited for his body to stiffen against hers. "He is my family, and I love him. He needs to know that."

He remained soft and relaxed, fingers still traveling over her skin in circles. "It is not you he is angry with," he sighed. "But if you must go to him and make things right, I will not stand in your way. I trust you."

Raising her head to look down at him, his eyes were closed, his mouth relaxed, the lines that all too often furrowed his brow were soft and in the fading torch light he looked so young to her then. "Thank you."

He brought his hand up to the back of her head, lowering her into his chest again, and there they slept through the long night while thunder hammered away at the mountains behind Helgen.

Heavy downpours of rain held them up in the keep for two days, and though the dark shadows of what lay ahead seemed to lay heavy on their shoulders, they were content with each other's company. Exploring the ruins, they found little of consequence to take with them, a few old books Ulfric thought might be worth reading and a bit of coin, but everything else was just memories of an Empire both of them wanted to forget.

"We should rebuild Helgen," she said on the morning of the third day. She stood in the doorway of the keep looking out at the looming clouds and wet ruins, glad the rain had broken long enough for them to leave that place. It wouldn't be long before bandits took up residence there again, but if they could restore it, perhaps people would see the good Ulfric was capable of doing for Skyrim.

"Perhaps in time we will," he agreed. "It could prove advantageous to our cause to have a strong city near the borders of both Hammerfell and Cyrodiil in our grasp, especially if a time comes when we need to look beyond our land for allies against the Aldmeri Dominion."

Drawing her up onto their horse behind him, they sauntered through the broken streets, surveying the damage, Ulfric talking in great detail about how much gold it would take to rebuild a city that had been so brutally damaged.

"But it would be worth it," he decided. "Perhaps when we arrive in Riverwood, I will send a courier to the other Jarls and we will meet in Solitude to discuss this when the business with the dragons is said and done." He leaned his back into her, grinning over his shoulder. "You are a smart woman. I'm glad you are on my side."


	11. Chapter 11

They heard the dragon attacking Riverwood as they were galloping up the road. Great plumes of smoke billowed toward the sky and the echo of its snarling screams had sent flocks of birds scattering from the trees from over a mile away. Ulfric dug his heels deeper into the horse's belly, driving it forward faster, and they arrived just in time to jump down and join the townspeople mid-battle.

She was surprised to hear Ralof's voice among those fighting, glancing up to see him still dressed in his Stormcloak gear as he pulled back his bow and shot one final arrow into the dragon's belly, making it fall. It landed in the open water just behind the mill, its heavy tail dropping over the back half of the structure, splintering the wood.

Luthien stepped up to take the dragon's soul, breathing it into her as the villagers gathered around, asking the same questions they all seemed to ask.

"Is it really dead?"

"Is it true? Are you really the Dragonborn?"

"What happened just there? Ysmir's beard! You took its very soul!"

"King Ulfric," Ralof bowed between them. "Stormblade, I hadn't expected to see you here."

"Ralof." Ulfric embraced the young man, clapping him hard on the back. "It has been long since last we met."

"Indeed," Ralof agreed. "What brings you both to Riverwood?"

"Dragons," Luthien gestured toward the shuddering corpse behind them. "Have there been many attacks here?"

"More than usual of late. It's as if something has stirred them up. That's the second dragon that's attacked Riverwood this month, but we've grown accustomed to them and have been keeping them back as best we can. We probably would have been all right if you hadn't come, Dragonborn, but we are grateful for your help, nonetheless."

"We are headed to the inn," Ulfric said. "Come, let me buy you a drink, soldier."

Luthien had passed through Riverwood a number of times since the day she'd met Delphine there with Vilkas, but she'd always stayed away from the Sleeping Giant Inn. A part of her still sometimes felt insulted by the older woman's attitude, but it was time to swallow her pride and admit that she needed help. With the Greybeards not offering much she could use, it left her with only one other options. She didn't much like it, but she had no choice.

As they made their way through the doors, Sven the bard put down his lute and scowled at her, recognizing her immediately as the woman who'd come between him and Camilla Valerius, when she delivered Faendal's false note all those years ago. She didn't even know at the time why she'd done it, but seeing him still brooding about it made her grin a little to herself.

"Orgnar?" Delphine's unmistakable voice bellowed from the room on the right, and she came stalking out to the counter. "Orgnar, I've been calling you for ten minutes. Can you even hear me?"

"Hard not to," the surly cook grumbled.

"The ale has gone bad, something needs to be done about." After a few seconds of silence, she belted out, "Are you even listening, Orgnar?"

"Yep, ale's going bad."

"Good, then you don't have potatoes in your ears after all."

Orgnar gestured with a nod of his head toward the travelers and Delphine turned over her shoulder, her brow furrowing for a moment, eyes squinting as if her vision was starting to go.

"King's here," Orgnar mumbled.

"Yes, Orgnar. I see that." Delphine's gaze only momentarily passed across Ulfric before returning to Luthien. "Dragonborn, I'd all but given up on you."

"I thought the Thalmor would have gotten to you by now," Luthien retorted, stalking toward the woman. "We need to talk."

"Do we now?" Delphine tilted her head, blonde ponytail slipping over her shoulder, sharp blue eyes narrowing almost scathingly. "You've made it abundantly clear that you haven't the stomach for your own destiny. What could we possibly have to say to each other?"

"I need your help." Admitting that to the hard-wired woman in front of her wasn't easy, but they weren't going to get anywhere if they stood there trading insults and glares until the end of days. "With Alduin."

At the mention of that name, Delphine's entire demeanor changed and she glanced over at Orgnar. "Keep an eye on things up here," she said. "You," she turned to Luthien again. "Come with me."

Ulfric dropped a handful of coin on the counter as they walked by, gesturing over his shoulder. "Drinks for the soldier."

Once inside Delphine's room, she closed the door and then eyed Ulfric suspiciously as she lingered near the wardrobe with the false panel leading down to her underground chambers. "How do I know I can trust you? Either of you?"

"Ulfric has no love for the Aldmeri Dominion, if that's what you're asking, and me…" she paused a second. "I've come to you asking for help. We need to trust each other, Delphine."

"You think I haven't heard that before? I trust no one."

"After what the Thalmor did to the Blades, who could blame you?" Ulfric asked, startling her even more by admitting he knew who she was.

"Farengar told me who you were," Luthien explained. "I had to threaten him a little to get him to talk, but he was the only one who seemed to know anything about you."

"Damn him!" she cursed.

"After the stunt you pulled with the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, what was I supposed to do? I need to protect myself, just as much as you do."

"Your secret is safe with us," Ulfric promised. "I know trust is not so easy to give. There are few in this world I trust at all, but I trust the Dragonborn and she is right. We need to work together on this."

Pinching her lips together tight in thought, Delphine gave in, but not without a swift warning that she didn't care whether he was king of all Tamriel. She would put her knife in his belly without a thought if he betrayed her.

"Understood," Ulfric conceded, watching her open the false panel and gesture for them to follow her down the stairs.

Delphine leaned her hands on the table and looked between them, waiting for one of them to explain. It was Luthien who cleared her throat, speaking first, while Ulfric stood behind her with his arms crossed. "It's Alduin," was all she said.

"The World Eater?"

"I have been dreaming of him," she explained. "Black scale, glowing red eyes… I don't know what it means, but I've read a few tomes from the library at the College in Winterhold, and they all seem to support the facts. It was Alduin who came first that day, destroying Helgen…"

"And it's Alduin who's been raising the dead dragons from the burial sites," Delphine breathed out as if it all finally made sense. Lowering her chin into her shoulder, she went on. "The crypt over Kynesgrove was disturbed the last time I was there, as if the dragon that had been buried there just got up and walked away from his grave. That makes sense, but for what purpose? Who summoned him here, and why?"

"I was hoping you would know."

Shaking her head, her blonde ponytail jostled along her neck. "I was never much for the lore, but I would be willing to bet the inn the Thalmor are somehow behind all this?"

"Do you have evidence to support that accusation?" Ulfric lifted his head, intrigued by that notion, as if such evidence would give him the reason he'd been searching for to strike first against the Thalmor, or at least give him the edge he needed to start rallying allies to his cause.

Delphine sighed. "Not evidence, just suspicion, but there is a way we may be able to get some inside information to confirm those suspicions."

"Go on," Luthien said. "I'm listening."

"Elenwen is famous for throwing elaborate parties at the Embassy, in which the rich and famous are invited to hob-knob with the Thalmor. If we could get you inside one of those parties, Dragonborn…"

"Absolutely not!" Ulfric stepped forward.

"Ulfric," she steadied his rage with nothing more than the soft way she spoke his name. "Let her finish, please."

"No! I've heard enough. I will not send you into some Thalmor reception like a lamb to the slaughter. Do you have any idea the things they would do to you?" Ulfric's body was covered in scars, including two fading gouges in his left cheek, that spoke of the things the Thalmor would do to her, but if they could gain proof that the elves were behind the dragon attacks, he would have an incredible amount of power in his favor. "They know who you are now."

"Not necessarily," Delphine interjected. "There are alteration spells that can be used…"

"Spells… Magic… Ha! I think not," he laughed. "I have already spoken, and my answer is no."

Luthien turned to him. "The Thalmor may know who I am, but they have never actually seen me, which will give us the advantage. Ulfric, how many times have we discussed the possibility that the elves were behind the return of the dragons? Information like that could be of use to us."

"It doesn't matter. You are not going."

"Think of the advantage that would give us when the Aldmeri Dominion takes up arms against Skyrim. You've said yourself that it's only a matter of time before they arrive on our shores, but with evidence that they've brought the dragons back, we will have no trouble winning the support we need from those who have doubts. Hammerfell, for example."

"We'll find another way to rally support then. Listen to me, woman," he ground his teeth together tight as he spoke. "Listen to me. That elf-witch is a nightmare, an evil abomination and I will die before I let her near you. Do you understand me? I promised you that I would never let the Thalmor hurt you."

"Ulfric, I am strong," she pleaded. "I fight dragons nearly every single day. I can do this."

"It's not about being strong, Luthien. It doesn't matter how strong you are, how many dragons you fight. They find ways to make you weak, to make you do what they want you to do, say what they want you to say. They will bend you until you break, and then they'll break you again." She saw real terror in his eyes, and it frightened her. Ulfric was a fearless warrior, who would gladly go to Sovngarde with his sword raised high, but to die at Thalmor hands was no honorable way for a warrior to go. "I'm sorry, but you're not going."

"I'm sorry," she pulled back from him. "But I am, and you can either support my decision, or you can go home to Windhelm without me. Those are your choices."

His eyes widened, stunned that she would dare give him an ultimatum. "Damn it, woman. This is not some pissing contest to see which of us has bigger balls. Do you want to die for something this Blade woman isn't even sure exists?"

"Of course I don't want to die, but we're all going to die if we don't do something and you know that!" Over her shoulder she heard Delphine sigh, but she ignored it, lifting her fiery gaze to Ulfric and holding steady. "We have to take risks, Ulfric, you knew that when you followed me. There are no guarantees that either of us is coming back from this alive."

"Then I will go in your stead." His jaw was still tight, teeth still clenched. "I have faced Elenwen before. I know what to expect from her."

"Which is precisely why sending you in there would botch the entire mission," Delphine intervened. "The Thalmor would love to get their hands on Ulfric Stormcloak, the great usurper of power and killer of kings. They could put an end to all the havoc you've wreaked in a single stroke, and then where would Skyrim be? Back in the hands of the Aldmeri Dominion, stumbling three steps backward and struggling to find its feet again. If we send the Dragonborn, we have a better chance of coming out of this to fight another day with the information we take from them, information with the power to strengthen your call for aid when the time comes and possibly give us a leg up on this dragon problem."

"I need to do this," she told him softly.

He didn't lower his eyes, but held her gaze for a long, silent moment before swallowing and finally drawing back. Jaw tightly clenched, he shook his head. "I need some air."

She let him go, watching him disappear up the stairs and listening to his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor above. She sighed. Just when she'd thought they were making progress together, he'd shut down as soon as she challenged him. How were they ever going to get through this journey together if he stepped in her path whenever something he didn't like cropped up?

She turned back to Delphine. "He just needs time. He'll come around."

"I can see why he married you," she said. "A good king needs a strong woman who lets him know she stands beside him, not behind him waiting for his orders."

"Nevertheless, his concerns _are_ genuine. How certain are you we will even find anything we can use?"

Delphine's face hardened with sorrow. "I can't make any promises. But I feel it in my heart. They would do anything to break Skyrim's back and make her weaker than she already is. The war took a great toll on the land and her people, but I've noticed that dragon attacks have become more frequent since Ulfric seized power. They have to be behind this. I just know it."

"Why does a Breton care about what happens to Skyrim?" She hadn't meant that the way it came out, realizing after she spoke how much like Ulfric she was starting to sound. She'd fought beside a number of Breton Stormcloak soldiers during the war, and their pride and love for Skyrim had passionately rivaled every one of Ulfric's Nord soldiers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

The woman laughed then, shaking her head. "Now I really see why he married you. You Nords are all the same, with your staunch prejudice against anyone who isn't made of ice and stone… I swear, most of you are no better than the Thalmor." She sneered.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Skyrim has been my home since before you were probably even born, kid, and what's to stop Alduin from going further west when he's done here, to High Rock and Hammerfell? South into Cyrodiil, Elsweyr, Valenwood and Black Marsh?"

"I am to stop Alduin," she said.

"We'll see about that," Delphine drew in a breath through her nose and released it, as if trying to steady herself. "If you're serious about doing this, let me know when you're ready to go and I will make the arrangements. I have a contact in Solitude who works for the Embassy, a Wood Elf named Malborn who can sneak in a few things you might need once you're on the inside. As soon as you say the word, I will send a courier to let him know you are coming."

Nodding, Luthien took her leave then, hiking up the stairs and out the doors to search for Ulfric. She found him near the bones of the dead dragon, looking out over the quietly rippling stream behind the mill. The sun was going down as she approached, its last rays streaming through the trees and the ginger-gold locks of his hair, revealing a few silver strands she hadn't noticed before. In that light, every year of his age seemed to show, or maybe the weight of the world was finally growing too heavy for his broad shoulders.

Approaching from behind, she lowered her hand over his shoulder and rested her cheek against his back, expecting him to stiffen against her touch the way he often did when she argued with him. She was surprised when he didn't move at all, except to turn his head toward her to speak. "I said I would follow your lead."

"Yes, you did."

"I have never been one to follow. I don't think I realized how difficult that would be," he sighed. "You will turn the hairs of my beard grey, woman. Just the thought of her near you makes the acids of my stomach churn. What if this is all for nothing?"

"And what if everything we need is in there?" She tugged on his shoulder until he turned around to face her as they spoke. "Look, I know it's dangerous, but…"

"But you will do what you must and I won't stand in your way." He closed his eyes, leaning forward until his furrowed brow rested against hers. "I just wish… I wish I could protect you from every darkness you must face, but I know I can't."

"No, you can't, but we will get through this darkness together. We have to."

"I hope you're right," he sighed again. "And I swear to you right now, where we stand, if she even so much as looks at you wrong in there and I hear of it, I will march into the Embassy to cut off the bitch's head and start this gods damned war myself."

"My champion," she brushed her lips over his cheek, across his scars before finding his mouth and drawing him into a deep kiss. "My king," she whispered. "We should take a room at the inn tonight," she whispered, stepping back and tugging at his fingertips as she walked, eyebrows lifting to entice him.

He tried to fight the grin drawing at the corners of his mouth, but followed her all the way back to the Sleeping Giant Inn, where they locked themselves away behind closed doors for the rest of the night.


	12. Chapter 12

Delphine said her contact would meet them at the Winking Skeever in Solitude, where Luthien would turn over a few much needed items she could use on the inside.

"How do you know you can trust this elf?" Ulfric asked.

"Not every elf is your enemy, Ulfric." Delphine didn't look at him when she said that, but kept her focus on Luthien. "You won't be able to walk into the Embassy dressed like… well, like you're about ready to start a war. You need to dress the part, look like you belong there. As long as you keep your mouth shut, you should be able to pull it off."

"I'm not stupid, Delphine." Luthien rolled her eyes. "So once I get inside, what am I looking for?"

"Anything you can find about the return of the dragons. Try to get into Elenewen's rooms."

"All right."

Ulfric had sat in the background listening the entire time, but he never said a word except his comment about Delphine's elven contact. She could tell it was killing him, but learning how to follow after spending his whole life leading wasn't going to happen for him overnight.

A heavy silence plagued him once they were on the road traveling north. He'd yielded to her request to head to Whiterun for the night, where they could buy another horse and she could seek out Farkas to try and make things right. He hadn't protested when she'd told him that was what she wanted to do, only said he knew how important it was to her to make amends, but she wondered as she studied his proud profile from over his shoulder if that was what weighed on his mind.

It was more likely Ulfric was more worried about her meeting Elenwen face to face. Truth be told, she was a little worried herself. In the time they'd been together, she'd spent many a night running her fingertips over the deep scars that horror had left all over his beautiful body. Occasionally, he would wake her in the night thrashing the sheets, whimpering in protest until she shook him awake and he shot from those bad dreams with a gulping gasp of terror before calming as she drew him back into her arms with whispered promises that he was safe there with her. He would curl into her like an overgrown child then, head rested on her breast, still trembling as he clung to her, and she swore his cheeks were damp with tears.

She had never spoken of it, not wanting to shame him and never feeling brave enough to ask what terrors he'd endured as a prisoner of war. Perhaps it was time she found her courage so she at least knew what to expect, but not on the road.

It was midday before they reached the stables of Whiterun, paying to board their horse and promising an even larger bag of coin if the horsemaster could provide them with another strong beast by morning. The last time she'd been home to Whiterun had been just after realizing she was carrying Ulfric's son, and when she walked through the gates, it felt strange and almost unfamiliar to her after having spent so much time away.

Windhelm was her home now, the Palace of the Kings. She supposed that hadn't really sunk in for her until she realized she actually missed it. She'd spent so many days standing in the tower, overlooking the White River from the distant windows when they weren't frozen over with a thick coating of ice or the view completely obscured by fat, blustery flakes of never ending snow, wind keening and railing against the stone. She'd once felt that same longing for Whiterun when she was away, experienced a sense of relief upon glancing up the hill and catching a glimpse of Jorrvaskr waiting for her to come home, but that comfort had died with Vilkas.

They made their way to Breezehome and after she unloaded her gear, she changed into more comfortable clothes while Ulfric made a fire in the hearth and sat down to warm himself beside it.

"I don't know how long I will be gone," she told him, smoothing the fabric of her dress over her hips. It always felt strange slipping into simpler clothes after walking around in her armor, even after long months of nothing but gowns, the last few weeks had quickly reaccustomed her to the heavy feel of it protecting her body.

"I will be here," he said, looking around the old house with as much enthusiasm as he could manage.

After she bent to kiss him goodbye, she made her way through the merchant circle and up the stairs into the Wind District, where Jorrvaskr sat basked in the light of late afternoon sun. Drawing in a deep breath, she started up those steps, not even knowing if he would be there.

"Harbinger," Aela rose from her seat at the table to greet her. "It has been a long time, sister, or do I call you Majesty now that you're High Queen?" There was a spark of jest in her bright green eyes.

"Indeed, it has been long." Luthien embraced her, stepping back to smile at her. "How are things here?"

"Plenty of work to be done, and a couple new whelps are floating around here somewhere. A young boy from Hammerfell came looking for honor two months past, and so far he's been proving himself worthy, and another woman from Winterhold, but I'm not sure she's going to last. She's far too reliant on magic, and it makes Vignar nervous."

"And Farkas?" She tilted her head as she drew back, hoping the apprehension in her voice wasn't obvious. "Is he floating around here somewhere too?"

"Old Ice-Brain's out back in the practice yard. He said he needed to train some more, but he hasn't exactly been doing much training."

Luthien furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. He just sort of sits there in the yard. I went out yesterday to find him sitting there with his back to the wall, and it was raining none the less. I asked him if he wasn't smart enough to come in from the rain, and he just looked at me for a few minutes and said he felt dirty and it was good to sit in the rain sometimes."

"Hm…" She twisted her lips to the side, chewing as she thought. "I'll talk to him."

"You and Vilkas were the only ones who ever could. Gods know I could never make much sense of him."

She made her way through the doors on the opposite side of the hall and into the training yard, where Torvar was sharpening his axe and arguing with Athis, who insisted one-handed blades made him quicker and deadlier. Some things never changed, she shook her head as she stalked toward them, catching sight of Farkas sitting cross-legged on the stone under the Skyeforge.

"My favorite drinking buddy," Torvar lifted his head to her in greeting. "Long time no see. I hear you're some kind of queen now. Good for you, kid. Good for you." He reached for his mead, lifting it to his lips, bearded mouth disappearing behind his tankard.

"I always thought the Harbinger would have been taller," Athis muttered to himself as she passed through them and made her way toward Farkas.

Farkas didn't even look up at her when she approached, the stringy locks of his dark hair hanging down in his bearded face like a curtain. He picked up a pebble and dropped it over and again, switching from palm to palm. "Didn't think you'd come."

"But I did." She dropped down onto the stone in front of him, crossing her legs under the long fabric of her dress and leaning forward until her forehead rested against his. They had sat that way together after Vilkas had died, the two of them in the practice yard, so many tears between them.

"I did what you asked me to do." He sounded so melancholy, his voice laden with such sorrow and regret it broke her heart all over again. "He is safe with the Greybeards."

"Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes and trying to find the right words to say. He was disappointed in her. He would never say as much, but he didn't have to. She could feel it, and she wasn't sure there was anything she could say or do to make it right. "Farkas… I'm so sorry for asking you to do that and for the things Ulfric said to you… He had no right. I'm sorry I didn't know. I guess maybe I should have, but every day you were gone, I was so afraid I'd lost the only family I had left and I didn't even know why."

"You had to do what you thought was right. You didn't do anything you need to apologize to me for," he sighed.

"Except marry Ulfric," she said, trying to make him laugh.

She saw the corner of his mouth twitch a little when she opened her eyes. "Well, yeah, there is that."

"If I had known it bothered you that much…"

"You would have married him anyway," he said, drawing back from her, the hair falling into his face again.

"Probably." She had to look away then because she didn't want to see the hurt in his eyes. "I know you don't think he's good enough for me, and I don't know, Farkas, maybe you're right, but I love him."

"Of course you do." He pulled in a long breath that expanded his broad chest, holding it there before releasing it with a groan. "And as much as I don't like it, there's nothing I can do about it. You know? I won't lie, Lu. It broke my heart when I realized you were in love with my brother, but at least I knew he would take good care of you and give you the life you deserved. Ulfric… not so much. I tried to be happy for you, I really did, but that guy's a real piece of work."

"He is doing his best," she said, still not looking at him.

"Is he?" He didn't sound convinced. "I just… All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, and since we marched into Windhelm that day and pledged our allegiance to his bloody cause, I haven't seen you happy at all. You've been miserable, and just when I thought I was going to come back and finally see you smiling, your face all lit up with the joy of motherhood, you asked me to do that and I just… I don't know. It all just seems so wrong."

"I'm sorry I put you through all that."

"It's not just you, Lu. It's everything. Ever since that day at Fort Hraggstad, when I almost died, I've been so messed up, you know?" He was rolling that pebble in his fingers again, tossing it back and forth from one hand to the other. "I try to sleep at night and whenever I close my eyes I can still hear him calling out to me. _Brother, I am lost. I'm lost and so afraid. Please, can you show me the way…_"

"Farkas," she said softly, reaching out to close her fingers around his. "Vilkas is in Sovngarde. He died a warrior's death, with his blade in his hand and right now he is celebrating in the Hall of Heroes with Kodlak and Ysgramor."

Swallowing before he lifted his bloodshot gaze to her, he asked, "What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not," she assured him, raising her hand to smooth away the hair that had fallen into his face. Tucking it behind his ear, she smiled for him, but the light didn't come into his eyes the way it used to when she did. "I promise you."

"Okay." Nodding, he leaned his back into the stone wall behind him, tossing the pebble he'd been playing with to his left. It clinked off the wall and bounced across the stone before skittering to silence near the porch. "I believe you."

Farkas was the only person Luthien had ever known that didn't make her uncomfortable when they were silent together. When he was excited, he never seemed to stop talking, but when he was finished, that was all there was to it. With Vilkas, she'd always been left wondering what was on his mind, and Ulfric was much the same. Silence meant something deep and dark was bothering them, but with Farkas it had always just meant he didn't have anything left to talk about, and it was okay if they just sat quietly. For the first time since she'd met him, his silence unsettled her, and she felt like there was nothing she could say or do to comfort him.

She didn't know how long they lingered in that silence together, but when she finally started to stand and stretch the tingling needles from her legs and hips, the sun was going down.

"Ulfric probably thinks I got lost," she told him, holding out her hands to help him up.

"He's here? In Whiterun?" He furrowed his brow in disbelief. "As in he actually lifted his ass from that throne of his?"

"He's been traveling with me, helping fight back the dragons while we search for a way to face Alduin."

"Huh," he shrugged. "I didn't even think that old man knew how to hold a blade anymore, to tell you the truth. He any good?"

"He's a strong warrior," she grinned. "His Thu'um has come in handy a few times, but it's not the same as having my shield-brother at my back. Don't ever tell him I said that."

"Don't worry." He leaned and flexed the muscles in his back to loosen them. "I don't see myself saying much of anything to him anytime in the near or distant future, unless it's with my fists. Which probably isn't a good idea."

"No, probably not," she agreed. "But he knows I'm not letting anything come between you and me. I was so mad when I found out what he did, I mean, I was already angry about everything, but that just pushed me over the brink. I left Windhelm and went off to fight the dragons by myself. He came after me, but I didn't want him there at first."

"Really?"

"Not knowing he'd done that to you. I didn't know if I could ever forgive him, but… he's my husband."

"Yeah…"

"You're my family, Farkas, and he will never come between us. Nothing will ever come between us."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"All right, then. I'll walk you home," he decided with a shrug. "So when are you leaving again?"


	13. Chapter 13

She told him of their plan to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy while they walked, and loathe as he was to admit he thought Ulfric was actually right, Farkas outright told her as they approached the house she was insane.

"It's only a matter of time before the Thalmor strike," she pointed out. "If we can find something now, before they do, we may be able to rally allies to our cause."

"I guess," he shrugged. "It just seems reckless, like poking a bee's nest with a stick. That's all. Almost as if you're handing them an open invitation to attack."

"They don't even know who I am," she said. "I mean, they know Ulfric has a queen now, but they've never seen me. That will at least give me a small advantage."

"Maybe. Just be careful out there. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you and I wasn't there to watch your back."

"I'll be all right."

"You better be."

As Farkas left her at the doorstep of Breezehome, he seemed a little more like himself, but even as he drew back from hugging her she could still see that haunted look in his eyes and it disturbed her. He'd been closer to death's door than either of them had ever been, but had he actually come close enough that he'd somehow slipped through for a moment? Had Vilkas really been calling out to him from the great beyond?

She watched him make his way back to Jorrvaskr, finally shaking off that thought and stepping inside her house. The front room was empty, the fire still burning strong, a pot of venison stew slowly simmering over the flames. She followed the soft sound of snoring up the stairs and peered around the corner to see Ulfric sleeping in the bed. They hadn't slept much in Riverwood and they had a long journey ahead of them, so she left him to sleep while she sifted through the reagents in her satchel to make a few potions for the road.

Alchemy had always drawn her deeper inside herself, giving her a quiet space within where she could think, and it wasn't long before she found her thoughts circling back to Vilkas. She'd come face to face with Kodlak's shade in Ysgramor's tomb the day she freed him of his wolf spirit and cured her own lycanthropy. Kodlak had told her that he and many of the other Harbingers were hiding from Hircine, but after she'd set his spirit free he'd told her they would welcome him in Sovngarde. Shortly after, she'd gone back to the tomb with the twins and slain their wolf spirits as well so they could live out the rest of their lives as honorable warriors and men, but what if Kodlak had been wrong?

What if Vilkas was wandering, somehow lost between worlds, hiding from Hircine and the Hunting Grounds?

Hours seemed to go by when she was lost among her alchemy components, and she hadn't even heard Ulfric's heavy footsteps on the floorboards above. When he appeared behind her and asked if she'd eaten yet, she leapt back with a startled gasp, knocking a bowl of glow dust all over the floor.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he chuckled. "I thought you would have heard me coming. It's not like this house offers much opportunity for sneaking around it."

"I was wrapped up in my thoughts and my work," she admitted, reaching for the broom to sweep up the dangerous mess she'd made.

"Who were you planning to poison?" he nodded toward the ingredients scattered across the table. Crimson nirnroot, glowdust, jarrin root, when combined under the right circumstances created a poison powerful enough to take down a dragon, but more importantly, an elf-witch who would never know what had hit her. "That is poison enough to take out two dragons in one shot if you coat your arrow just right."

"Elenwen." She swept the glow dust back into the bowl and lowered it to the table before brushing its remnants from her hands.

He laughed at first, but the laughter quickly faded when he realized she was serious. It hadn't started out that way; she'd started thinking of Vilkas, but her mind had soon shifted to the task that lay ahead—facing the woman who had once tormented Ulfric so brutally it gave him nightmares. All she'd thought about after that was killing her.

"My heart," he tilted his head, reaching over to brush the stray hairs from her face.

"I can't even begin to imagine the horrors you must have seen at her hands, but every time I think of the things she did to you, I want to kill her for you, my love."

"This is precisely why I did not want you to do this fool's errand. If you let your woman's heart get in the way, you will get yourself killed."

Replacing the broom, she walked past him into the living room. "It is not my woman's heart I am thinking with. You told me once that a woman's heart knows forgiveness, but you were wrong. I cannot forgive the things she did to you. I will not."

"Trust me when I tell you I would give anything to watch her die a horrid and painful death, but killing Elenwen now would bring the Thalmor down on Skyrim in waves. I am smart enough to know that we are not ready to fight the dragons and the Aldmeri Dominion both, and so are you."

Lingering near the stairs, she drew in a deep breath. She could hear the stew bubbling furiously in the pot, probably burning to the bottom, but it could wait.

"You cry out sometimes in your sleep." She didn't look at him when she said those words, knowing it would shame him that she knew. "You wake me in the night, whimpering, trembling in terror and when I take you in my arms I can feel your tears on my skin."

"I know," he muttered so quietly she barely heard him.

"What unspeakable things did you suffer at her hands, Ulfric?" When he didn't answer, she turned into him and lifted a hand to his scarred cheek. "Share your burdens with me, my love."

She heard his knuckles crack against the clench of his fingers. "Dark, unspeakable things that are better left unspoken. I do not wish to relive them in that way. I only want to forget."

"But you don't forget," she leaned into him, lowering her cheek against his shoulder. For a moment he just stood there, body still stiff, and then he brought his arms around her and held her close. "I wish I could take them away from you, so you never had to relive them again."

"It is enough for me to know you would," he whispered.

They stood together in that way a long time; Luthien only wanting to understand, Ulfric unable to share the darkest shadows of his past with her no matter how badly she wanted to take his pain away from him.

That night, it was not Ulfric who woke her crying out in his sleep, but just the opposite. She was running again, her arms heavy and aching with the weight of her children, who trembled with fear against her. Dragon fire raged and burned at her back, so hot she could feel it singeing the fabric of her gown, melting the earth beneath her feet until it was liquid. It pulled at her like so many hands as she ran, grasping to burn the skin of her ankles, its heat seeping into her bones, but she couldn't stop running… couldn't fall or she would drop them. Her babies; she had to keep her babies safe.

She could hear the mountains crumbling, the moons cracking in the sky and raining meteors down around her that sunk into the pools of molten lava rising up from the depths of Nirn to devour.

"Motaad, Dovahkiin. Aus fin bah Alduin! Taazokaahn fen mah_!_" _Tremble, Dovahkiin. Suffer the wrath of Alduin. Tamriel will fall._

"No!" she shrieked, struggling against the hands that gripped her as she shot from sleep into the dark room like an arrow jetting from the string of a bow. Even as he shook her, she still felt like she was in that place, could almost feel the molten earth lapping like a thousand orange tongues at her skin while it dragged her down and swallowed her still screaming. Her arms ached, muscles burning with weight she'd never even carried.

Ulfric drew her to his chest, fingers tangling into her sweat-soaked hair as he stroked and soothed her until both her breathing and her heart rate began to slow again. "It was only a dream, my heart," he promised, but try as she might, she didn't believe him.

Though her heart was no longer like thunder in her ears, she was still trembling, still aching. "I feel his fire burning my skin."

"You're feverish," he said. "No doubt you contracted something from those skeevers in Helgen."

"No," she murmured. "It's the fires of Alduin. He's going to eat the world."

"Probably Ataxia," he muttered, drawing back and pulling the blankets from his body. "Or Bone Break Fever. I'm going down into your potions stores."

"Don't go," she pleaded, reaching for him. "I'm afraid, so afraid. I don't want my sons to die like that, Ulfric."

"Our son is safe in High Hrothgar," he lowered his hand to her cheek in a gesture of comfort. "I'll return in a few moments. I'm just going downstairs."

She shivered and burned beneath the blankets while he was gone, her mind still stuck in that horrible place, her body wracked with aches and chills as the fever burned through her. When he returned and brought the bottle to her lips to drink, she sipped the bitter liquid until it was gone, already feeling the grip of whatever ailed her lifting away with every swallow.

When the bottle was empty, Ulfric gently pushed her back into the bed and covered her with the blankets, but he didn't sleep. He drew the chair up by the edge of the bed and watched over her as she tossed and turned through treacherous nightmares, leaning in several times to draw her back from the brink of apocalyptic horror before it could completely devour her.

It was well into the late hours of the morning before the fever loosed its grip and dreamless sleep claimed her. She slept through the day, only opening her eyes once and seeing Ulfric asleep, slouched in the chair beside the bed. When she finally stretched awake, most of the aches gone from her bones, he was not in the chair and after dressing she went downstairs to find him. He wasn't in the house at all, and her first instinct was dread.

Had he gone to talk with Farkas again? Her heart didn't want to believe he would dare do such a thing, but her mind still wasn't willing to completely trust him. She told herself she was only going into the market for some cheese to fill her rumbling tummy, but as she stalked up the hillside she moved past the stalls and up the stairs, her sights set on Jorrvaskr.

Her attention, as always, was drawn to the mad, passionate priest, Heimskr, who'd been standing in front of Talos as long as she'd been a citizen in Whiterun, reciting the same outrageous speech, but as she moved her gaze she caught a glimpse of Ulfric out of the corner of her eye. On the bench beside the statue, its heavy shadow cast across him as he sat with his hands together in his lap, head bowed in silent prayer.

She made her way past Heimskr and took a seat beside him, glancing up at their god with reverence. "I should have known I'd find you here," she admitted, hiding the sheepish guilt she'd felt for immediately thinking the worst when she woke to find him gone. He didn't need to know that, but it was enough that she'd thought it.

"It is not like home," he mused, sorrow furrowing his brow. "I miss the silence of our temple where I can think, and fear Talos will not hear my prayers."

Luthien leaned into him, glancing over at Heimskr who had just started ranting about maggots writhing in the filth of their own corruption. "He is listening," she said. "What do you pray for, my love?"

"I pray for you," he told her, rising from the bench and reaching for her hand. As they walked toward the shrine, he went on. "I pray for Hundr and all of Skyrim's children." He bent forward and activated the shrine, spirals of blue light circling around him as he stepped back and closed his eyes. Luthien followed suit, allowing the blessing to fully cleanse her. She could feel its tingling warm filling her from her toes to the top of her head, its peaceful resonance following both of them as they made their way toward Breezehome. "I ask only for the strength we need to see us all through the trying times ahead."

"Talos is always with us."

"I hope you are right," he exhaled doubt.

Ulfric insisted that she rest more before they returned to the road. Even if she was feeling better, he wanted her at her best before making the journey to Solitude. It was a three day ride on horseback, but there was no telling what troubles they might meet on the road.

He cared so tenderly for her that night, bringing her warm soup in bed and then climbing in beside her to hold her as they rested quietly together. She let the comfort of his arms around her draw her into a false sense of security, and even though she knew nowhere was safe for them anymore—not as long as Alduin was out there—it was enough for her to know they would probably die together when the time came.

He confided in her as they lay together in the dark that night that though he did not fear death, a part of him worried about what would come of Skyrim if they were unable to succeed in their task.

"She will fall," Luthien shuddered. "All of Tamriel will burn and crumble if we don't get through this."

"Is this what you see in your dreams?" he asked.

"Every night."

"We cannot let it be so."

She was silent for a long time, her mind racing through every possibility. "Maybe we will have no choice."

"Is that a hint of defeat I hear in your voice, heart of my heart?" He lifted his head to look over at her in the dark. "My woman does not let fear of defeat overcome her."

"No," she said softly. "Only uncertainty. There is so much ahead of us, Ulfric. The Empire, the Thalmor… it all seems so small when compared to the doom I see in my dreams."

"We will get through it," he told her, "all of it," but she heard doubt in his voice then too.


	14. Chapter 14

They were able to make the journey to Solitude in just under three days, even despite having to stop and face several dragons along the road. It was as Ralof said, the dragon attacks only seemed to be increasing, and not just in Riverwood, but everywhere they went. They rode swiftly and spoke little, even when they made camp at night. The weight of what awaited them in Haafingar was heavy on them both.

Luthien had not been back to Solitude since the Stormcloaks took the city. Even when they'd left to make their way back to Windhelm after the war, they'd walked away from a smoldering city whose air was still thick with death, smoke and the dust of crumbling stone. She hadn't been expecting to see it returned to its former glory so quickly, but Ulfric's people had performed miracles, and save for the absence of Imperial banners hanging in the streets, it almost seemed as if there had never been a battle there at all.

"Solitude is a strong city," Ulfric noted when she commented on how quickly they had restored it. "Not as strong as Windhelm, but she has her advantages. It is why the Empire always chose this place to seat their puppet kings."

Even the people seemed to be in good spirits, milling about in the courtyard shops, children running through the streets playing tag and hide and seek as if there'd never been a war there at all. Many people had feared that a Stormcloak victory would doom them all to poverty and despair, especially after growing soft and becoming reliant on Imperial handouts. He knew the land and its resources better than anyone, and he'd assured her there was enough wealth in Skyrim to do more than just get them by. Ulfric's vision meant to see them through the struggle of cutting those ties from the Empire until they grew as strong and self-reliant as their ancestors had once been.

"Wanna play tag?" A little boy with closely cropped brown hair ran up to her, lifting his reverent gaze to meet with hers.

"No, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't have time to play tag right now."

"Darn," he kicked his foot. "I bet Svari you could run real fast. Now she's going to expect me to give her all my taffy because I couldn't prove it."

Ulfric nudged her, grinning down over his shoulder at her. "Play with the children, Luthien," he said, knowing how much it would mean to her. "I will scope out the Winking Skeever for our… mutual friend. Meet me there when you've finished your game."

"All right," she turned to the boy. "I'll play tag with you."

"Really?" His bright blue eyes widened with excitement. "Okay then, you're it!" He reached out and swiped his hand across the hip of her armor and then turned tail, running into the square to meet up with his friends.

They chased each other around the streets of Solitude, Luthien feeling a powerful lightness in her soul that battled with her sorrow over the thought that she would never play such games with her own son. As she snuck up behind the boy and tapped him on the shoulder, he spun around, bright-faced and smiling as he looked up at her. "Wow! You really can run fast."

"You tell Svari to leave your taffy alone," she chuckled.

"What's your name?"

"Kaydr, but Svari just calls me Kayd. You can too. What's your name?"

"My best friend calls me Lu."

"It was real nice of your father to let you come and play with us, Lu."

She started to laugh again, not ever having endured that kind of mistake before. "King Ulfric is not my father. He is my lord husband."

"You're married to King Ulfric?" his eyes grew large with disbelief. "Wait until Svari hears I played tag with the High Queen of Skyrim. She's never going to believe it!" His excitement bubbled forth in a host of questions that nearly overwhelmed her. "Does it really snow all the time in Windhelm? Is it true you slayed the entire coven of the Glenmoril witches? Do you really hunt dragons? My papa says you and King Ulfric are clearing the dragons from our land to make it safe. He says it's the only good thing the High King has ever done for Skyrim, but I think Ulfric would have to be a good king to have a queen as pretty as you." His face flushed with the embarrassment of his own flirtation.

"King Ulfric and I do hunt dragons, that much is true."

"Wow. You must be pretty strong then if you fight against dragons. I saw one once while Papa and I were out hunting, just from the ground though. It was pretty big. Svari didn't believe me, but she and I play at dragonslaying all the time. I pretend I'm King Ulfric and she always pretends she is you, even though she doesn't really know how to shout. She just makes up funny words. Can you show me a real Dragon Shout? She would be so jealous."

"No, I'm afraid not, little one." His words struck a chord in her heart and she felt her chest tighten with emotion. In all her imaginings, she'd never thought there were children out there who played at being her. "But you and Svari keep slaying those dragons. Skyrim will need strong heroes like you one day, but I'm afraid really should take my leave, now."

"Yeah," he lowered his head sadly. "Thanks for playing with me, Lu," he said as she began to walk away. "Hey," he called out. "Do you really think we could be dragonslayers someday?"

"Of course you can. Talos be with you, Kayd."

His words lingered with her as she made her way into the Winking Skeever and located Ulfric, sitting at a table in the center of the room with a mug of mead. She sat down across from him, scanning the tavern for signs of their contact.

"That little boy, Kayd," she began, "he said his friends play dragonslayers together. He always plays as mighty King Ulfric and she pretends to be me."

She watched the corners of his mouth draw upward. "I told you your people loved you fiercely, my queen."

"I know, but I just… I never thought…"

"That you would be a living legend?"

"No."

"You are the Dragonborn, my heart. The bards already sing songs of your deeds, and parents tell their children stories about you when they tuck them into bed at night. You are a hero."

It was almost too much pressure; she'd known the day the Greybeards had summoned her to High Hrothgar and Balgruuf the Greater had told her she might be Dragonborn, her path would take her places she'd never dared to imagine. Vilkas had once told her she should always be humble about the deeds she'd done, never let the glory and honor that came with her role go to her head, and she tried not to, but just knowing there were children out there who looked up to her made her want to always do what was right and good. She didn't want to let them down.

Shaking her head, she eased her back into the chair behind her and tried not to think about it anymore, lest she float away on a cloud.

"Any sign of Malborn?"

Ulfric gestured toward a quiet table in the shadows behind the counter. "He's been sitting there alone since I came in, the only elf in the place."

"I guess we should get this party started then," she sighed, rising from her chair.

"This elf friend of Delphine's better not betray you," Ulfric said, his face twisted into a scowl she didn't even have to turn around to see.

They made their way toward the man in the corner, lingering at his back until he glanced up and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Delphine sent me," Luthien said. "Are you Malborn?"

"Maybe," he narrowed his eyes between them.

"I'm Luthien and this is Ulfric."

"You? You're the ones she sent?" His high brow wrinkled in disbelief. "The High King and Queen of Skyrim? Is she trying to get me killed?"

"Relax, elf." Ulfric pulled the chair out so Luthien could sit down at the table across from their contact. "No one's going to get you killed."

"Ha! I find that hard to believe. If I didn't owe her this favor, you'd be on your own. I don't care what you're king and queen of."

"And people wonder why trying to reason with your kind leaves such a bad taste in my mouth. Lazy, good for nothing… You wish to live here and take advantage of all Skyrim has to offer, but you never want to give anything back to her…"

"Ulfric," she shot him a sharp look that quieted him mid-sentence. Turning her gaze back to Malborn, she said, "Delphine told me you'll be working this little party of Elenwen's at the Embassy. Is that correct?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I can smuggle a few things inside for you if you need me to, but after that you're really on your own. I hate the Thalmor just as much as the next guy, but I'd rather not have any part in whatever it is you two are up to."

"Then I will do my best not to get you involved," she promised. "And don't worry, I won't bog you down with too much. I just need my axe, my bow and quiver and a few potions."

"All right," he nodded. "Hand over what you want me to take in, and I'll do it."

Parting with Wuuthrad wasn't easy. Even when she'd laid Ysgramor's blade aside near the end of the war to carry the Axe of Eastmarch into battle, she'd known exactly where she'd left it and that it was going to be there when she got back. Ulfric had to actually reach over and uncurl her fingers from the handle after she'd handed it over to Malborn, whispering to her that she was making a scene.

"I'll keep it safe," Malborn assured her.

After parting ways with him outside the tavern, she tried to shake off the overwhelming sense of dread that weighed her down, commenting to Ulfric that she'd thought not having a blade at her back would have made her feel lighter, not heavier.

"You'll get it back," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder as they made their way toward the gates.

They were to meet with Delphine near Katla's farm, by the stables, but as they made their way down the long bridge of land that suspended Solitude above the Karth River Luthien started having second thoughts about going through with the task. Maybe Ulfric was right; she glanced sidelong at him as they walked studying the lines in his forehead and the tight furrow of his brow that made him look almost angry.

"I'll be all right in there," she told him, though still not really certain of that herself.

"I know," he muttered.

"I'll get in and get out as quickly as I can."

"That's a strong plan," he agreed. "I know I can't go inside with you, but I'm going to take the carriage with you and get off on the road," he said. "I've been studying the plans of the Embassy again and there's a cavern behind the mountain. If I can get in that way, I may be able to help you."

"What if someone sees you? Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Do you think any of this is a good idea?" He slowed his pace and stopped beside her. Up ahead she could see Delphine, arms crossed and waiting for them to approach. "I know I said I would follow your lead, and I will do the best I can, but I can't let you go in there completely alone. Not knowing what you face. Word of our arrival in Solitude has already spread, and before long I'm sure this whole thing will come back on us anyway."

"You're still afraid I'm going to kill that insufferable bitch and bring the Thalmor out in droves." She grinned in jest, but he was not amused. "I'm kidding, Ulfric. I promise I'm not going to kill her unless I absolutely have to, and if you can get in the back door without being seen I will be grateful to have you at my back."

"Are you two going to stand around all day? The carriage driver is getting restless," Delphine approached.

"Last minute planning," Luthien explained.

"Whatever," the woman shrugged. "Did you get everything you needed to Malborn?"

"Yes."

"Good. Here, you'll need to look the part. I brought you some clothes."

She handed over a set of fine clothes, a golden orange gown and brown overcoat with soft leather boots. She ducked into Katla's barn to change into her party clothes, Ulfric watching her back. When she turned in to face him, he reached out and straightened her sleeves before lifting his hand to the amulet of Talos. He fingered it for a moment, his soft thumb smoothing across the green hue of time across its bronze surface.

"My father gave that to me on my thirteenth name day," she looked down at his hands.

"Talos cannot follow where you go tonight, heart of my heart. At least not in that way," he lamented, lifting it over her head. "I will keep this safe until we meet again, I promise."

First Wuuthrad, now Talos?

She had worn that amulet since she was a little girl; though her father had given it to her with a strict warning to always keep it safely tucked beneath her shirt for fear of drawing unwanted attention to it. Living in Windhelm and fighting with the Stormcloaks had allowed her to wear it with pride in the open. Reaching up to touch her naked throat, the doom that had followed her down the hillside after handing over Wuuthrad to Malborn increased tenfold.

"This is your last chance to change your mind," he told her, following her out of the barn.

"I have to do this," she said.

"I know, but it was still worth a shot." He lowered his gaze in defeat, lifting the amulet up and dropping it down over his head where it fell in to rest atop his own.

"Your name is Jora and your family hails from Morthal." Delphine handed over her invitation to the party and reminded her one last time to keep her mouth shut.

"Jora," she nodded. "Morthal. Right."

"If anyone in there even suspects for a minute that you're not who you say you are, you're dead. Get in, find what we're looking for, and get out of there. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Good," she nodded. "I'll take care of your stuff for you. Meet me back at the Sleeping Giant when you have something for me. And Dragonborn, be careful in there. A dead Dragonborn is no good to anyone."


	15. Chapter 15

Delphine's words hung over them like a shadowed cloak as the carriage jerked forward, Ulfric huddling across from her. They said nothing, but he reached across the space between them and took her hands in his, holding her cold fingers and rubbing warmth into them. Every time she looked up into his eyes, he tried to smile for her, but it came out more like a grimace, the corners of his mouth quickly jerking downward again as he lowered his gaze to their hands.

"I'll be all right," she whispered, squeezing his fingers.

He only nodded, holding onto her hands as long as he could before it was time for him to take his leave and allow her to go forward without him.

She'd been so angry with him when she left Windhelm, she'd prayed to Talos in the temple to send her the strength she needed to go on without him, a part of her actually believing she might never see him again. But as if her god had known exactly what she really needed, Talos had sent him to her instead, and though she'd wanted to curse him that night he'd taken off his helmet before walking into her camp, she was glad he'd come after her and even more glad she'd found it in her heart to forgive him.

She didn't know what lay ahead of them, if she would even come out of the task that lay ahead of her alive, but at least she would go to her death at peace with her husband.

"I'm not afraid to die," she reminded him.

He did smile at her then, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek before lowering his forehead to hers. They sat that way for awhile, the rickety cart carrying them through the cold hills. "You make me proud, woman."

When he kissed her goodbye then, she felt as if he'd given all of the strength he carried inside himself to her before drawing back and rising to stand.

"Talos be with you, my love." She squeezed his hand before he hopped down from the moving cart just below the Embassy and watched her drift further and further away from him.

"Be careful in there, woman," he called. "I will see you on the other side."

She only hoped as he disappeared into the shadows that the other side he spoke of wasn't the other side of Oblivion.

The snow covered estate nestled in the mountains behind Solitude glistened like a jewel in the light of burning sconces and silver moon shining behind it like a beacon. Luthien was surprised when a Thalmor agent guarding the door actually stepped up to the wagon to help her to the ground, his warm hands gripping hers tight until she was steady on her feet again.

"Another beautiful lady," a gruff male voice called out to her as she made her way toward the porch with her invitation at the ready. She glanced to her right and saw a burly Redguard seated on the bench below the deck. "Are you hear to mingle with the pinchpennies too?"

"I'm sorry?" she shook her head, hoping he didn't draw too much attention to them.

"Nothing, I'm just venting out loud. Name's Razelan. I assume you're here for the party, then? Is this your first one?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "I've heard so much about them and my father thought it was high time I made my way here to mingle and perhaps make a suitable match."

"I'll drink to that," he wagged his eyebrows at her.

"Excuse me, my lady," the Thalmor guard who'd been standing at the porch approached. "Do you have your invitation?"

She drew out the paper, steadying her hand in her pocket as best she could before turning it over to him. He read over the words and then nodded, lifting his gaze to her. "Everything appears to be in order here. Welcome to the Embassy. Please follow me."

As she was walking toward the doors, she glanced over her right shoulder and caught a glimpse of a shadow in the trees, familiar ebony armor briefly glinting in the moonlight as Ulfric stood watching over her until she drew a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

Luthien had never seen Elenwen before, but she knew as soon as she entered the Embassy the graceful, willowy woman with the golden skin that made her way toward her was her enemy. Looking down her nose with fiery, amber eyes, the acids in Luthien's stomach immediately began to churn and she could feel her knees wobbling beneath her gown. Not because she was afraid; but because she couldn't believe she was finally standing in front of an enemy she'd silently hated since the day she'd first seen the scars and faded lashes that marred her lover's body.

_This_ was the monstrosity who had wrought unspeakable tortures on Ulfric, filling him with quiet shame he would carry for the rest of his days. The immediate need to exterminate her where she stood was so overwhelming she almost couldn't breathe, and for a moment she thought silently to herself that she didn't look so tough. Then she remembered Ulfric's scars, thought of him fighting steadfast at her side in dragon battle, and realized she was being a fool if she thought one look at her enemy had given her enough information to size her up properly.

"Welcome." There was a chill in her voice, and more arrogance than Luthien had ever heard Ulfric muster—and that man was ego incarnate. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim."

Ambassador her lily-white backside. With the Empire no long in control in Skyrim, by rights Elenwen had no claim to that title any longer, but even Ulfric had told Luthien months before there was nothing they could do to drive the Thalmor out of Skyrim… yet. They had left their headquarters in Solitude quickly enough, but the Embassy itself was just far enough away from the city that for the time being it was easier to leave them alone. Ulfric would allow them to think he tolerated their presence, for the moment, but asking them to evacuate their Embassy could be the final insult that brought war.

Resisting the urge to spit in her face and remark that she knew exactly who she was, Luthien steadied her emotions and swallowed them. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador. I've heard so many things about you."

She tittered with girlish laughter as she reached out a golden-skinned hand to touch her arm. "All good things, I hope."

Luthien didn't answer that, but instead said, "I am Jora of Morthal."

"Ah yes," she nodded. "I recall your name from the guest list. Please, tell me more about yourself. What brings you to… these parts?"

_I am queen of these parts_, she wanted to say, and as if he'd sensed the tension rebuilding inside her like a storm, Malborn called out from Elenwen's back, drawing her attention away from Luthien so she could draw a breath. "Lady Elenwen, a moment please?"

"What is it, Malborn?" she hissed over her shoulder, ignoring him when he began to speak again and returning her focus to the woman in front of her. "Morthal, did you say? I hear there's been trouble there with… what was it? Werewolves, no, it was vampires, I believe. Nasty sort, bloodsuckers, but I suppose even vampires are better than that ragged band of usurpers who think they can keep the Empire out of Skyrim, wouldn't you say? I'm sure it's just a matter of time before we can restore proper peace to this land."

"This is a beautiful party," Luthien had to grind her teeth together hard. "I can see you spared no expense."

"Of course not," Elenwen smirked. "One does not gather the most important men and women of Skyrim and serve them cheap ale and stale bread." Oh, how little she knew of the real important men and women of Skyrim. The celebrations in the Blue Palace the night they'd claimed Solitude had been filled with true important men and women of Skyrim, and they had dined gratefully on roast boar and venison, their mugs overflowing with strong Nord mead and ale. "This is only a taste of the benefits that accrue to those who align themselves with Thalmor interests."

She could feel the heat washing over her skin, rising in her cheeks as her jaw clenched almost painfully. If it hadn't been for Malborn calling out to his mistress again, Luthien was sure she would have truly lost it and that would have been bad for everyone. The Thalmor thought they could win the people of Skyrim over with shiny baubles, expensive brandy and rich food—they were fools.

"The hospitality of the Thalmor Embassy is at your service. Please, enjoy yourself and if I can be of service to you while you're here, don't hesitate to seek me out. We'll have to get better acquainted later." She bowed without lowering her head, a clear sign that she thought herself above Luthien as she backed away and made her way toward Malborn at the bar.

She caught his gaze over Elenwen's shoulder, one eyebrow lifted in caution, and as she drew in a deep breath through her nose, she had to wonder if she really looked like she felt? As if she might explode at any given moment and reach for the nearest sharp object to shove through that smug witch's eye. She had never had a problem with the elves, the neighbor boy she'd grown up with had been Dunmer and as children they'd been thick as thieves, but that woman… She made Luthien's blood boil with endless rage.

Moving into the folds of guests milling about near the food tables, she saw a few faces she recognized in passing, but fortunately none of them recognized her. She mingled and chatted, finding it far too easy to lie as though she were truly one of them and wondering to herself what they have thought of her if they knew who she really was. Ulfric said her people loved her fiercely because she drove back the dragons, but she had a feeling the people in that room could have cared less at all about dragons. As long as the general populace kept filling _their_ deep pockets with plenty of coin, they probably would have let the dragons rule the sky forever.

And speaking of deep pockets and plenty of coin… the infamous Maven Black-Briar made her way into a one-sided conversation she was having with Erickur, (who was so drunk he hadn't recognized her at all, Talos be praised,) and he backed up to snag another drink from the girl passing by.

Maven eyed her with distaste and suspicion, her gaze immediately falling to the gown she wore, which matched Maven's almost thread for thread. "Don't I know you?"

"I don't think I've ever had the pleasure. Who are you?"

"Who am I?" She laughed haughtily. "I am Maven Black-Briar, and if you don't want me to blow your cover, I'd suggest you stay as far away from me as possible for the rest of the night. I don't know what you're up to, but I want no part of it."

She ignored the woman, heading toward the bar asking Malborn for another drink. She was starting to feel like she'd been there too long already, and if she wasted anymore time, Ulfric was likely to come busting into the Embassy with his sword and his Thu'um at the ready to get them both killed.

"Good," he nodded, handing her a glass of Colovian Brandy. "You're doing okay so far, but you'll need to make a distraction of some kind so I can get you away from the party. Once you've done that, come back here and I'll take you to your stuff so you can get the real party started."

"What kind of distraction?" she wrinkled her brow.

"I don't know. You're the stealth agent here, not me, remember?"

Sighing, she took the brandy and turned away from the bar, surveying the party in front of her. Maven was still squinting at her, and Erickur was watching her with lusty eyes, but she ignored them both and made her way toward Razelan, who'd seated himself on the bench near the foyer.

"What's a fella gotta do to get a drink around here?" he looked longingly at the brandy in her hands. "None of the waiters will serve me. Elenwen must have told them to cut me off, the frigid bitch. Probably afraid I'll cause another scene."

Talos _was_ truly with her, or maybe it was Sanguine, lingering in the shadows watching over her with approval, she thought, handing her untouched glass of brandy over to him. "Here, I brought this for you."

"For me?" he reached for it. "One generous soul amidst a host of lick-spittles and pinch-pennies. Really, you shouldn't have. Now I'll be forever in your debt."

"It doesn't take much to get on your good side, does it?" she chuckled.

"A good strong drink from a pretty girl is a surefire way straight to the center of my heart. You just let me know if you need anything at all, darling, and it's good as done."

"Do you think maybe you could help me out, since I was kind enough to bring you a drink?"

"Sure." He swallowed two heavy gulps and lifted his dark gaze back to her face. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to create a distraction for me. Get everyone's attention for a few minutes."

"Sweet girl," he grinned. "I was born to make a scene. You just say the word and I'll dazzle this room with my magical charm."

"How about right now?"

Swilling the last few sips of his brandy, he lowered the cup onto the tray of the serving girl who passed by and pushed up off the bench with a confident swagger that made her grin. "Stand back and behold my handiwork." He sauntered into the midst of the party, calling out, "Attention everyone. Could I have your attention, please? I have an announcement to make. I propose a toast to Elenwen, our mistress."

Luthien quickly scanned the room, all eyes on Razelan as she backed toward the bar and ducked in beside Malborn.

"Let's go, quick," he whispered, gripping her sleeve and leading her toward the kitchen doors.

As they slipped away from the party, she could still hear Razelan's voice over the din of the party. "I speak figuratively, of course. Nothing could be more unlikely than that someone would actually want her in their bed…"

"So far, so good. Hopefully no one saw us leave the party." Malborn said as they shuffled into the kitchens where a Khajiit woman milled over more refreshments. Glancing up to scold him for bringing someone into her kitchen.

"A guest feeling unwell. Leave the poor wretch be."

"A guest in the kitchens? That is against the rules. You shouldn't have a guest back here. If the Lady Elenwen finds out…"

"Rules, Tsavani? I didn't realize eating moonsugar was permitted. Maybe I should ask the Ambassador," he hissed, shoving Luthien into the larder and closing the door behind them.

"Tsk! Get out of here. I saw nothing."

"You're gear is in there," he gestured toward a chest in the corner. "I need to lock this door behind you and get back out there before someone notices either one of us gone. Don't screw this up."

She knelt on the floor and opened the chest, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of Wuuthrad waiting to be embraced. Lifting it out, she actually kissed the cold steel of the blade before slinging her bag of potions over her shoulder and rising to stand.

"Thank you, Malborn," she nodded to him as she reached for the door handle. "Talos guide you."

"Whatever," she shook his head. "Just get out of here, go on. Go."

She opened the door and slipped through into the hallway, scanning the empty corridor and listening for voices as she heard the click of the door locking behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

No sooner had the lock bolted into place, did Luthien hear voices coming from the immediate room to her left. She ducked into shadow to listen to them talk about a dispatch of soldiers that arrived earlier that morning. A group of mages, the other explained. "I guess Herself is finally getting worried about all the dragon attacks."

"Ah, good. I was beginning to wonder how we would defend this place if a dragon did attack."

She saw another open door just up ahead to her right, and activating her muffle spell, she ducked across the hallway into that room, still listening to their conversation as she searched for anything she might be able to use on the inside. A set of Thalmor robes was folded on the table, boots laid in front and gloves laid atop it.

"Oh, this is too easy," she muttered to herself sarcastically. It wouldn't really be easy. She was tall, but not tall enough to pass herself off as an elf, and without a hood to hide in the fire of her bright red hair would easily give her away.

"If a dragon does show up, maybe it will eat the mages first and give us a chance to actually kill it."

Their joined laugher echoed through the silent hallway as Luthien slipped out of her party clothes and into the silky, black and gold Thalmor robes, pulling the long boots up the length of her calves and standing up to glance down at her body. If Ulfric could see her, he'd probably be sick, she thought.

"Well," she heard their laughter subside begin to fade. "We better get back to our rounds."

She pulled in a deep breath, sighing it free as quietly as she could and then headed back out into the hallway, peeking around the open door to see where her targets were standing. She and Ulfric had studied the layout of the Embassy for hours before she'd come. She knew she needed to get up the stairs and out the back exit into the courtyard in order to make her way to Elenwen's solar, where any information that might actually do them some good would be found.

If she could sneak past the guards and get up the stairs unnoticed, it would be a miracle, and her hand automatically shot to the place her amulet of Talos normally rested. Not finding it there gave her a moment's panic, and she winced, lowering her gloved hand back to her side. Lifting her head for a moment, she uttered silent prayers to her god, or any god who might be listening, and then swallowed her fear, ready to face whatever the Thalmor threw at her.

Their patrol seemed to consist of them lingering in that room, trading places from time to time as they listened to the party still going on beyond those walls. At one point they were both standing with their backs to her, and she snuck into the room, ducking behind the pillar just as the one nearest to her turned back into the room.

"Did you hear something?"

"Just Herself laughing out there as if she is actually amused by what those fools have to say," he shrugged. "I don't know how she can stomach their company. Just the smell of them makes my belly ache. They all stink of sweat and horse and defeat. It's disgusting."

Luthien lowered her nose to her shoulder, breathing in a quiet whiff and then shrugging.

"One day soon, they'll all be dead and we won't have to smell their stench anymore."

"Ah, to breathe clean air." They laughed again.

As they began to mock Elenwen, imitating her phoniness and false pretense with the filthy humans, Luthien moved quietly up the stairs and didn't stop until she reached the landing. She closed her eyes, ducking into the doorway before the Thalmor guard, who turned into the room she needed to get to, could see her. She cursed under her breath. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone while she was there, in fact, Ulfric had pleaded with her not to, assuring her such an attack would have dire consequences for Skyrim, but she didn't have much of a choice.

Steps still muffled by magic, she snuck down the hall and checked the empty room on her right before glancing left. It was just that one guard; maybe she could hide his body in a place no one would find it until it started to wreak of decay. By that time, they wouldn't have any idea how long he'd been there or who'd done it. He was also wearing a nice set of hooded robes, and a hood could come in handy if she met with anymore guardsman once she was outside in the courtyard.

Despite having promised she wouldn't kill Elenwen, Luthien had still poisoned her arrow tips before leaving Breezehome. Pulling back into the hallway, she drew out her bow and lined her target in her sight. He turned just as she'd let the arrow go, eyes catching hers as it sunk into his shoulder, widening in disbelief as he crumbled to the floor, instantly dead. She exhaled relief, rushing over and stealing the clothes off his back before dragging his naked corpse and hiding it in the wardrobe of the room next door.

Straightening her new attire, she tugged the hood up over her head and was glad as she hid within it that there were no mirrors around for her to see herself in that getup. Even worse was the smell. The elves thought Nords smelled badly, but their robes all reeked of smoke and electricity and the scent made her skin crawl.

The darkness outside provided enough cover for her to slip from shadow to shadow, sneaking past the guards on patrol in the courtyard until she found herself lingering in the bushes just near the Solar tower. She watched as two guards came out of the tower, and it felt like hours before they were far enough away to allow her to sneak inside.

She'd expected to face a host of enemies within, but only two awaited her inside: a Nord spy and his Thalmor master, an interrogator the Nord called Rulindil. For a moment, she was at a loss, her mind trying hard to wrap around the concept of that man's betrayal, but her pause made her linger too long and the man saw her. Fortunately, Rulindil's back was to her when she entered, and seeing only her robes, the spy didn't really pay her much mind as she headed left toward Elenwen's office, but Rulindil turned over his shoulder to see what his companion was staring at.

"Where do you think you're going?" Rulindil called out as she reached the study, just steps away from the office. "Shouldn't you be on patrol?"

She cursed under her breath, trying to think of an excuse she could throw over her shoulder to keep from having to use force. "I…"

"Wait a minute. Who are you?" She felt the air change, the static electricity gathering in force as he drew power from the air around him. "What are you doing in here?"

She didn't know what else to do, so she spun around quickly and unleashed the power of her voice, sending both Rulindil and his weasely friend flying back into the wall behind them with unrelenting force that echoed through the tower like a clap of heavy thunder. Charging toward them as she drew Wuuthrad from her back, she went after the Thalmor first, taking him down before he had a chance to recover his senses before turning her attention to his friend.

"You never should have come here," the man hissed, lunging toward her with a trembling dagger in his hand.

"No," she shook her head, tongue sliding across her lower lip as they danced around each other. "It's you who never should have come here. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you filthy traitor," she said.

"Ashamed?" he laughed, circling to her right and lunging in with his dagger. "For wanting to bring glory to my land and my people?"

"You call this glory? A Nord colluding with the Thalmor in hopes that they'll throw you a crust of bread after they wipe out your entire race and burn your land to ash?"

Throwing back his head, his laughter echoed through the empty solar. "At least I'll still be alive when the rest of you are long dead…Ulfric Stormcloak has doomed you all!"

She lifted her hand, drawing her own power from the air around her, sparks of electricity gathering in her palm as she stretched and closed her fingers. "I don't think so. Skyrim belongs to the Nords!"

It shot out in long pulses, his body absorbing the shock in spasmodic shudders, face lengthening in surprise as he cried out and tried to fight his way toward her with heavy steps. She drove him to his knees, filling him with her hate as she stalked toward him. It had been one thing, brother fighting against brother in the Civil War. That had broken her heart every time she went to battle and slew an Imperial Nord who just wanted peace, but this… This man was a traitor and a spy and she would feel no remorse in killing him.

Lifting Wuuthrad over her head, she heard Ulfric bellow from behind her. "Woman! What are you doing?"

She brought her blade down, severing the coward's head from his body and watching his blood spatter across white marble. "Killing a traitor," she said, still gripping the axe tight in her hands as she turned around. "I didn't have a choice. They caught me…"

"And now we don't have a choice. We have to get out of here, before we are caught. I heard your Thu'um as I was coming up the stairs. I'm sure I wasn't the only one to hear it."

"Not until I search her office," she shook her head, lowering her axe over her back and stalking toward him. "I came all this way. I'm not here leaving without something we can use."

"Woman," he clenched his teeth as he growled.

She ignored him, pushing past him and darting into the office she'd been heading to when Rulindil had discovered her. Ulfric lingered in the doorway, keeping watch over his shoulder while she rifled through drawers and shelves in search of something, anything that might shed light on the Thalmor's involvement with the dragons.

"How many?" Ulfric asked, glancing down to where she knelt on the floor in front of a locked chest tucked into the corner behind Elenwen's desk.

"How many what?"

"How many Thalmor did you kill?"

"Two." She jiggled the lock, grunting frustration as the pick snapped in her hand. "The one in the Embassy I stole these robes from, and the one you saw out there. I had no choice."

"Kill or be killed," he nodded understanding. "Come on, Luthien. There's nothing here. Just leave it, and let's get out of this place before we can't."

"This chest is locked for a reason and I almost have it." She turned the lock slowly, fingers working gently as she eased the pick just slightly right to release it from the springs inside.

"It never fails to disturb me that you know how to pick a lock so well."

"It's gotten you into a few places you needed to be," she reminded him.

It popped, the trunk lid slightly lifting, and she smiled to herself when she saw what lay within. A document titled Dragon Investigation nestled atop two bound dossiers, one with Delphine's name and the other with Ulfric Stormcloak written neatly across the front in bold black letters. "It looks like they've been watching more than just Delphine." She scanned over the investigation document as she stood up straight and cursed. "Damn it!"

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," she cursed again. "They know absolutely nothing about why the dragons have returned."

"Then this was a waste of time," he sighed.

"Not necessarily," she lifted the dossiers. "There's something here about you."

"About me? Let me see that…"

"We'll look at it more in depth once we get out of here, but we need to move. It says here in this document there is a prisoner in the Interrogation Chamber downstairs who may hold all the answers they are looking for."

"Let's move, then."

There were more guards in the chamber below, and Luthien was no longer in the mood to sneak and spare them her blade. She'd already made a mess, she might as well leave the Thalmor enough gifts that they would never forget she'd been there. She heard Ulfric grumble into his beard behind her as he stepped over the bodies and descended into the cells below. Scanning the area for the prisoner she'd read about, she found him shackled to the wall. Luthien rushed in and began to free him.

"Please," the Breton cried, struggling against his shackles. "Just leave me alone. I don't know anything else, I swear."

"I'm not here to hurt you," she whispered. "I'm here to help. What's your name, Breton?"

He looked up at her, deep blue eyes surprised by the kindness in her voice. "I… you…I am Retienne. I'm just a thief, I swear it. I don't know anything."

"Why were they keeping you?"

"I told them about the old man," he shuddered as he dropped to the floor, tears burning in his eyes. "The one hiding in the Ratway. They kept torturing me, asking me more, but I don't know anything else, I swear."

"What old man?" Ulfric lingered at her back, arms crossed.

"The Blade. Esbern."

"Another Blade?" Luthien glanced back over her shoulder at him behind her. "Delphine said she was the last."

"I listened to them when they thought I was unconscious. They think this man knows why the dragons have come back. They wrote down everything," the man said. "It's over there in a chest near the desk, but please. Can we just get out of here? I saw them dragging the bodies to a trap door over there. Maybe we can get out that way."

"I need that document," Luthien said. "And then we will go. I will get you safely out of here, I promise."

"Hurry," he gasped. "Please."

She was already digging through the chest when she heard them come in, Malborn's squealing protest that he didn't know anything, as they dragged him down the stairs.

"You let that wretch in, aided her, and we want to know why. What is she after, Malborn?"

"Ulfric," she called over her shoulder.

"I'll handle this," he nodded.

"I knew you two were gonna get me killed," Malborn called out from the top of the stairs, but his voice was soon lost in the echoing thunder of Ulfric's Thu'um, Thalmor bodies scattering backward as he broke in and took the two interrogators out swiftly. She was just rising from the chest when he came back to her, Malborn lingering behind him trembling as he repeatedly murmured, "I don't want to die. I don't want to die."

"Shut up, elf! You're not going to die, but if you don't close your mouth, I may have to change my mind about that." Ulfric barked over his shoulder. "I found this on one of the interrogators," he held up a key. "Maybe it'll open that trap door."

The door opened into an underground cave, and the prisoner dropped down first, running headlong into whatever waited for them down there just to get away from his Thalmor captors. Luthien followed next, then Malborn and finally Ulfric, and as her feet hit the ground, the shock of the drop rumbling through her bones, she heard a troll growl and snarl up ahead.

"Retienne, wait," she grabbed onto the rags of his shirt to hold him back. "You're not even armed. If you want to get out of here alive, stand behind us."

Ulfric charged forward, dropping down to face the troll while Luthien drew back the string of her bow from the cliff edge. The poison of her arrow took it out quickly, and Ulfric glanced back up at her with his brow furrowed when it fell, as if to silently ask if she didn't think he could have taken it. She shrugged, replacing her bow and jumping down to stand beside him.

"My hero," he smirked, leaning into her as they walked toward the back of the cave in search of the exit.

Malborn and Retienne followed, the Breton stepping up to her as they lingered near the dark mouth of the Reeking Cave. "When I saw you in those Thalmor robes, I thought you'd come to kill me, but I can see now you are no elf. You didn't have to save me back there," he said. "But I'm grateful you did. I will never forget what you've done for me today, friend. Who are you?"

"No one of consequence," she smiled softly, lowering the hood of her robe around her shoulders. "Be careful on the road."

"May the gods watch over your battles, friend."

After their two companions parted ways with them, heading in the opposite direction while Luthien and Ulfric made their way south, her husband drew up behind her and asked, "Why don't you take off those ridiculous robes? Every time I look at you, it unsettles me."

"What am I supposed to wear?" she laughed. "Delphine has all my gear."

"Fair point. We should make our way back to Solitude and get you something more appropriate to wear."

"I want to take a look at these dossiers."

"We will take advantage of Elisif's hospitality then. I'm sure she'll be delighted to see us."


	17. Chapter 17

It was midday before they reached the gates of Solitude, the chill of their journey sunk so deep into their bones that Luthien wanted nothing more than to bathe in a boiling tub of water until she could feel all of her digits again. Elisif _was not_delighted to see them, at least the grimace she wore as they made their way up the stairs to meet with her in the Blue Palace seemed to suggest she was actually a little bit put out by their surprise visit. She was kind enough, smiling at Luthien genuinely as she surveyed her strange attire with furrowed brow, but forcing the same gesture when Ulfric asked if she fared well.

Before she could even give him a full answer, he cut her off mid-sentence and announced, "Good, good. We will be requiring a room here in your palace. My wife is weary and I have business to attend to. Have your servants see to her needs."

"Of course, my king. You and the queen are always welcome here," Elisif said with as much bittersweetness as she could muster. "Falk, will you please have the servants make a room ready for the High King and our lady queen?"

"Absolutely, Jarl Elisif," he bowed and took his leave, returning rather quickly with a host of servants to see to their needs.

Ulfric left her for a time to check in with Istar Cairn-Breaker, who'd taken over control of Castle Dour and the Stormcloak guard in Solitude after the war. Before he left, he confided that he had a feeling the streets would be abuzz with word about her little excursion in the Embassy. Elenwen was likely fuming and if he spent enough time in the streets listening, maybe he would actually hear something worthwhile.

The servants in Elisif's household had been gracious enough to draw a bath for her, and after the basin was filled with steaming water, she sunk down into its perfect heat and let herself forget about those dossiers for a little while. She couldn't deny she was curious to read what they had on Ulfric, but even more than that, she wanted to know who this Esbern fellow was. Delphine claimed to be the last of the Blades, but Etienne told them the Thalmor were searching for another, a man named Esbern who might know something about the dragons.

She reached out of the tub, her arm dripping water into tiny puddles on the floor, and grabbed the first dossier on the top of the pile. She flipped through it, scanning the words. According to the file, Esbern was a fugitive the Thalmor allowed to slip through the cracks due to his age. The man was in his seventies, and though he'd never been in the field, he was known to have executed some of the most brilliant pre-war attacks against the Thalmor. The document went to say that they had no idea why the dragons had returned, reiterating what she'd already read in Elenwen's study, but they believed Esbern may have information that could shed some light on the dark subject that baffled them.

Did Delphine know about Esbern? She wouldn't be surprised if she did. That woman and her secrets… as much as she liked to chastise Luthien, treating her like a twelve-year-old girl who didn't know her own arse from a hole in the ground, Delphine's reckless enthusiasm was like to be the thing that got them all killed in the end.

She leaned out and lowered Esbern's file onto the table, swiping Delphine's into her grasp and skimming it over. There wasn't much within those pages Luthien didn't already know. She'd been an essential asset to the Empire during the Great War, making waves and leaving Thalmor blood trails everywhere she went. She was to be exterminated on sight, but fortunately for her the Thalmor had no idea where she'd been hiding for the last twenty years.

Which led her next to the file on Ulfric. She knew better than to trust anything the Thalmor said, but when she saw the word "ASSET" scrawled at the top, it was hard to ignore—even if it did say uncooperative beside it in parenthesis. There were a lot of words in that document that were hard to ignore. They'd established contact with him after the war, but after the Markarth Incident they believed he'd become uncooperative. What did that even mean? The final words claimed that he was to be considered dormant as an asset unless under extreme circumstances.

Ulfric? An asset to the Thalmor? That didn't even make sense, and yet the distrust that still lingered in the back of her mind began to immediately question him. Forgiving him for going behind her back with Farkas was one thing, but to blindly follow him without ever questioning his motives was an entirely different matter. Was the resentment he carried all part of some elaborate hoax, or were the Thalmor really as disillusioned as he claimed.

No… Ulfric would never betray Skyrim, would he? There were those who believed everything he'd done, he'd done only to gain power, and now that he had that power he could use it to see whatever plans he had for Skyrim to fruition. But he had shared those plans with her so many times while they lay together in the dark, fingers absently stroking her shoulder as she nestled into the crook of his arm listening to him talk. Self-reliance, a return to their roots, thriving on the old ways until every Nord in Skyrim could once again claim their homeland with pride. He would rather die than hand over that power to anyone—especially the Thalmor.

Again she found herself ashamed for doubting him. His hatred was far too real, and there was no denying those hidden tears he cried as he clung to her in the dark, but what on earth would ever give the Thalmor the idea he was their man? They named the Markarth Incident, and though he often boasted with pride that The Men of the Reach had been a savage disgrace that needed removing, he'd never mentioned Thalmor involvement in his plans.

Tossing the dossier back into the pile, she sunk down into the tub again, already feeling the water beginning to cool to room temperature. She soaked until the water was lukewarm and then washed and rose out of the tub, pulling into the comfortable robes the servants had left beside the tub. Combing out the waves of her wet hair by the fire, her mind raced.

That document had to be destroyed, but not until Ulfric had a chance to see it. If word got out that the Thalmor thought he could be manipulated, Skyrim would lose what little faith she had in her king and people would turn with their hopes and allegiance back to the Empire, or worse, the Aldmeri Dominion. Solitude was the worst place possible to have that dossier. If one of Elisif's servants got their hands on it, word would spread through the land faster than it could ever be stomped out.

She was just laying the comb on the dressing table when she heard the doors open behind her and turned to find her husband grinning in the doorway. "Elenwen is furious," he announced, stalking toward her and handing over a neatly folded dressing gown of blue silk he'd picked up in the Radiant Raiment. "The good news is, she has no idea who you really were, but she suspects I had something to do with it. Just knowing she is inflamed with rage makes my heart swell. Probably more than it should."

"Good." She took the clothes from him. "We need to talk."

The grin quickly faded from his lips when he heard her tone. "What is it?"

"The Thalmor seem to think you're an asset to their cause, an uncooperative asset, but an asset none the less."

She watched his eyebrows knit together, every wrinkle in his forehead visible. "What are you talking about?"

"It's all there," she gestured toward the document on the table. "It says they made contact with you after the war. That you helped them in Markarth."

"Elenwen and I did come into contact with each other during the Markarth Incident, that much is true, but I am no traitor and I have never been, nor will I ever be a friend to the Thalmor, if that's what you're suggesting."

"I'm not suggesting anything. I only wish to understand why they would think you were an asset to them."

His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as his gaze moved toward the pile of dossiers. "Because I cracked, Luthien. I gave them important information about our plans, our positions, ways they could get inside and it was because of me they took the Imperial City. It was my fault the Empire fell, but I only wanted the torture to stop. You have to understand that. I was weak. The Empire left me there to die and when I escaped, I knew I could never go back. Titus Meade didn't give a damn about me or any of the Nords who'd gone to war for him. We were disposable pawns in his game, and I betrayed him because I had no choice!"

She shook her head, everything starting to make sense. "They had already taken control of the city when you gave them whatever information you gave, and then they let you escape, knowing they had sown you with enough seeds of hate to fuel your eventual rebellion against the Empire. It wasn't your fault the Empire fell."

"What?"

"It's all there. Read it," she said. "And then burn it. There's no telling the stories people will make up about their king if that were to get out."

Ulfric sat down at the table, squinting in the dim light of the candle as he read over the dossier while Luthien got dressed. "This is ridiculous," he shook his head. "Surely you don't believe any of these lies. I was never a willing cooperative in any of their games. The things they did to me…"

"Ulfric." Approaching him from the side, she rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently in a gesture of comfort. "_I_ believe you, but as I said, others might not be so willing to see the good in you that I see. That needs to be destroyed before anyone else lays eyes on it."

"Yes," he agreed, raising his hand to his forehead in an attempt to smooth away the tension building there. "It does."

Luthien reached for the document, but he held tight to it for a moment before letting it go. She threw it into the fire, while he stood behind her with his arms crossed and his brow still furrowed. "You should have let me kill her while I was in there," she mused, hoping to see some of the light come back into his eyes, but he was in no mood for jests.

"I should go back in there and kill her myself, strangle that bitch with my bare hands." His fists clenched tight at his sides, joints cracking with rage. "That would show her how willing I am to cooperate with whatever plans she thinks she could get me to go along with."

"Her hackles are up now, thanks to my little stunt. If you walked into the Embassy, she would be waiting for you with her claws out, ready to strike." She braced his shoulders, leaning into his chest and laying her cheek against him. "As you told me, we are not ready for war with the Thalmor yet, but in good time it will come. Probably sooner, rather than later now that we've poked the sleeping giant."

"I don't care. I want them out of Skyrim," he fumed. "And it is high time we send them that message."

"Do you really think that's wise?"

"What do you expect me to do? Nothing? I can't sit with my thumb up my ass like the Empire, waiting for them to make the first move."

Another war… they weren't ready, no matter how angry he was, and though she'd seen him angry more times than she cared to remember, this anger was more righteous than any she'd ever seen in him. "We will need to make preparations. Rebuild our armies. It's going to take a lot of well-trianed soldiers to stand against the Aldmeri Dominion, soldiers we don't have at our disposal. Driving them out tomorrow would be a fool's quest, but in a couple of months' time, with dedication to rebuilding our strength, we might be strong enough. In the meantime, we go on letting them believe they have the upper-hand and when we strike, they will never see it coming."

"You think like a warlord, my queen," he mused. "Then we agree on this?"

"You are my husband and my king," she lowered her head. "Whatever you decide, I will support you."

"We should make our way to Windhelm before we go to Riverwood. It's not as if we have anything of consequence to deliver to Delphine and I need to speak with Galmar about this. Find out how strong our troops are, though I already know the answer."

"Of course," she nodded. "We will leave first thing in the morning, but tonight, Lady Elisif has invited us to dine with her court. Her cooks have been preparing a great feast for their king. Come, we can forget this for now."

"My thoughts are troubled and I am in no mood to be courteous or civilized. Just looking at Elisif right now would only incense my temper, but you should go."

"I will stay with you."

"No," he shook his head as he turned into her, strong hands lowering to rest on her shoulders. "I wish to be alone with my thoughts."

She leaned up to kiss his cheek and then left him, making her way to the dining hall where Elisif and her household had already taken their seats. They all rose when Luthien entered, and didn't sit again until she was comfortably nestled in the empty chair beside the head of the table, a gesture that always made her feel strange and uncomfortable.

"You look beautiful, my queen," Elisif grinned across the table at her. "That gown is absolutely stunning. Wherever did you get it?"

"The Radiant Raiment," she unfolded her napkin and laid it over her lap.

"Right here in Solitude? I will have to send my ladies over to place an order."

"Where is our Lord King?" Falk Firebeard asked, pouring more wine into his goblet. "I was looking forward to hearing his stories from the road. I hear the two of you have been slaying dragons far and wide. Ulfric has always been such a good storyteller."

"I'm afraid my husband won't be joining us. Ulfric is not feeling well."

"Oh, that's too bad," Elisif noted, though Luthien detected a hint of joy hidden in her voice. "I hope it's nothing serious."

"Only a headache."

"Well then, perhaps you will entertain us in his stead, my Queen," Falk grinned across the table at her. "I'd love to hear the tale of the three dragons on Northwind Summit."

"It was only two dragons," she began, "as I had killed their brother as I was coming into Shor's Stone. We met the flames of their wrath as we scaled the mountainside…"


	18. Chapter 18

Ulfric was ready to leave Solitude before Luthien had even risen from bed the next morning, her head still heavy from the wine Elisif kept pouring into her cup as she and Falk begged her to tell them more stories. It had been so late when she returned to her rooms, her husband had gone to bed without her, and only stirred long enough to draw her into his arms as she climbed beneath the quilt before drifting off again without a word.

He barely gave her time to dress, insisting they make for Windhelm without even breaking their fast before leaving. They would eat on the road, he said, and so they had.

She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to Elisif who, despite her unyielding hatred for Ulfric, wasn't so bad once she got to know her a little better. Growing up in her village, Luthien had only had boys to play with, and before she'd joined the Companions and met Aela, Njada and Ria, she'd never had any female friends. She wasn't sure that she and Elisif would ever really be friends, but they certainly had a great deal more in common than she'd ever expected. Elisif was young, only a year older than Luthien, and still grieved her beloved husband as if he'd died only yesterday. Luthien didn't say as much, but it made her think of Vilkas, whom she'd loved so fiercely in their short time together.

Elisif spoke of Torygg with such longing, a few times she had to stop and hide her tearful gaze, giving herself a few moments to gather her composure again.

In their late night discussion, Luthien had quickly learned it was Falk Firebeard who ran Solitude; Elisif didn't really have the head for governance, which was why she'd clung so desperately to the Empire. They'd told her what to do and when to do it; she'd never even asked why. More than once she'd lamented into her cup that Ulfric was a fool if he thought he could bring peace to Skyrim with war. Try as she might to sympathize with Elisif, Luthien was glad she was not High Queen. Without the Empire there to rule her land, Falk often had to intervene to make sure things got done and despite his Jarl's hatred for Ulfric, Falk thought the man was a genius. Elisif seemed only too happy letting someone else do her job, but Ulfric didn't want to hear about it.

"So long as someone is doing what needs to be done." He mounted his horse and drew back the reigns, steering the beast leftward and away from the stables.

He was still upset about the dossier, obviously, and his mind was heavy with the weight of impending war. Whenever she asked him to talk to her as they rode side by side, he only looked ahead and muttered, "I don't have much to say right now."

At night when they made camp, they huddled together by the fire and warmed their blood with mead and he only spoke when she initiated the conversation.

"Please, don't shut me out like this, Ulfric. Tell me, what are you thinking?"

"I think of my son," he said.

Though he was always in their thoughts, they didn't speak of Hundr often, and whenever they did both of them grew somber. "Me too."

"I wonder what kind of man he will be."

"Strong like his father," she rested against his arm. "A good man and a good king."

"I hope he is a better man than his father." In the ridge above their camp she heard a lone wolf howl. "A man the Moot won't hesitate to crown King should I die."

"His father _is_ a good man."

"Sometimes I wonder if we will even live to see him grown."

Luthien sighed; she had wondered that same thing at least a hundred times a day since she'd learned he grew in her belly and the number of times it flashed through her mind had increased tenfold the moment she first held him in her arms and looked into his soulful eyes. She had seen the world in those eyes, the future.

"I hope so," she whispered, the tickle in the back of her throat making her eyes sting with unshed tears.

"So do I."

"In my dreams there are two children." She reached her arm up through his and found his cold hand, curling her fingers into his palm until he closed his own fingers around hers. "Both of them sons, with your eyes."

He leaned out to look down at her, a flicker of hopeful light in his gaze for the first time since she'd shown him that dossier. "You've never told me that before."

"I am afraid to bring another child into the world I see in my dreams."

Ulfric lowered his arm around her then, pulling her close to him to share his warmth. They did not speak again until he told her to rest while he took first watch, but come morning's light some of the darkness of his mood had lifted and she was glad.

A great deal of his confidence and swagger returned by the time they reached the gates of Windhelm, which even on horseback took them nearly six days. They arrived amidst a merciless blizzard that whipped their hair into their faces, the ice and wind greeting them by carving through the gaps in their ebony armor like frigid little daggers. Ulfric stopped on the stairs before the Palace of the Kings, Luthien lingering over his right shoulder, both of them looking upon home through the haze of snow with deep reverence.

Home. They were home.

Jorleif was in deep conversation with three Dunmer, who wouldn't have dared to come into the Palace had Ulfric been there when they arrived with their complaints. The Grey Elves looked nervously over their shoulders as the king made his way toward the war room without even acknowledging that they were there.

Galmar Stone-Fist pushed up from his chair, almost startled, as if he'd been caught lollygagging by the king.

"Ulfric." They stepped up to one another, a fierce, wordless greeting before they embraced, clapping each other hard on the back before finally moving back. "I've heard rumors, someone infiltrated the Embassy and stole some very important documents. Please, tell me it was the two of you."

"It is not safe to talk here. However, there is much we need to discuss. Come upstairs to my quarters, old friend."

Not until they were tucked safely behind the closed door of the Jarl's quarters did Ulfric nod toward Luthien so she could explain. She told Galmar the story from start to finish, and while she spoke he stroked the knot of his silvered-blonde beard, mouth twitching as he chewed at the corners from inside.

"And now the Thalmor think they can use him because of the information they garnered from him during his capture."

Galmar was quiet a moment, and then he leaned back in the chair, the barrel of his chest shaking with boisterous laughter that could surely be heard all the way downstairs in the throne room. "Are they daft?"

"I think we both know the answer to that question." Ulfric drained his flagon and lowered it to the table. "With the Empire no longer holding Skyrim under their thumb, the terms of the White-Gold Concordat no longer apply here, and we have every right to drive them out of our land, but the Thalmor are a distraction I cannot afford to play to right now. Not with our soldiers still weak from the war and the dragons ruling the skies. I cannot even count on both hands anymore how many we have faced since leaving this place, but I want the Thalmor out of Skyrim. I would send a missive right now, but first I need to know we have enough soldiers in our ranks, trained and ready for the inevitable backlash."

"Hmm…" Galmar lowered his hand to the table top, fingers twitching before they began to tap on the surface. "I will send word to the jarls in every hold and begin a recruitment campaign. In a month's time our forts will be teeming with more Stormcloak soldiers than we can train, but at least it is a start."

"Good," Ulfric nodded.

"It won't be easy," Galmar admitted. "We may understand the threat Thalmor pose, but most of the men and women who would fight for us are not but young milk-drinkers, barely weaned from their mothers' teets. No offense, my queen." He nodded respect to her.

"None taken."

"There are few left who actually know first hand what horrors the Thalmor are capable of," Ulfric agreed. "All they have are the stories of mad old soldiers and the propaganda the Empire has circulated for the last thirty years."

"But we know, brother," Galmar sighed. "And that knowledge is power. I will spread that knowledge far and wide, until all are rallied to our cause. The people of Skyrim are weak right now. Many of them suffering the loss of resources we endure since severing ties from the Empire, but we will make her strong again."

"I knew I could count on you."

"Is it too early to send emissaries to Hammerfell with a proposal for aid?" Luthien spoke up.

Galmar nodded as he thought that over. "It is never too early to begin bartering with potential allies, I think."

"Perhaps not, but I have no one I can trust or spare to send to the Alik'r right now."

Luthien's mind churned on that thought, while Galmar and Ulfric continued their discussion. For a long time she watched the Stormcloak family banner sway under the high stone ceilings over the hearth, the great bear rippling under the rising heat. And then it struck her. That banner didn't make her think of her husband. It reminded her of her fellow soldiers, and at that moment she thought of a soldier in desperate need of a purpose; one who'd fought valiantly for Ulfric, never wavering in his love for his king or his land—a soldier who would gladly carry out an order from his High King. Looking up between them, she grinned, which caught Ulfric's attention the moment he saw it.

"I don't like it when you grin like that. What are you thinking, woman? I know your heart yearns for adventure, but you have more than enough on your plate already. You are not going to Hammerfell. I don't care what you say, I forbid you."

"No, not me," she shook her head, though she couldn't deny that spending her entire life in the frigid tundra of her homeland had definitely made her long to see the vast Alik'r Desert. "But what about Ralof?"

"The boy from Riverwood?" Galmar grumbled. "He's still alive?"

"Alive and well and wandering around Riverwood without hope or direction," Ulfric nodded.

"Why isn't he at Fort Neugrad with the other soldiers in that region? He should be furthering his training, not milling about Riverwood as if he's got nothing better to do."

"The war was difficult for him, and its ending has left him a bit broken. When last we saw him, his only hope was for further dragon attacks to fall on his town to keep him busy." Turning his gaze back to her, she saw a familiar fire in her husband's eyes—the fire and passion of the Season Unending sparking to life in his soul again. "This is good council, woman. I will draw up a proposal for aid before we leave Windhelm and we will speak with Ralof when we get to Riverwood."

Galmar lifted out of the chair, stretching the muscles in his back as he rose. "It is a good idea, but I don't think we should get our hopes up. The Redguard owe us nothing, and there are no guarantees they will side with us in this fight. Since they managed to stalemate the Dominion and get the Empire to surrender their land back to them, they've no reason to fight."

"Perhaps not, but the Redguard loathe the Empire and the Thalmor almost as much as we do. Maybe even more," Ulfric pointed out. "With the right words and promise of an alliance, I think we could win them to our cause."

"Then it is settled," the old warrior decided. "I will continue to build our troops and strengthen our forts as best I can. Where do you go next?"

"We are making our way back to Riverwood, to speak with Ralof and meet with the Blade woman who sent Luthien into the Embassy. From there, I do not know."

"It feels as if we are no closer to solving this dragon problem than we were when we left this place two months ago," Luthien sighed. "We found nothing about dragons in the Embassy."

"Perhaps not, but the information we did find will be of some use to us."

"Well, wherever the winds and snow take you, Talos be with you both."

"And you, old friend."

After they broke their meeting, Luthien bundled into her cloak and fought her way through wind and heavy snow to the Temple of Talos outside the palace to give Ulfric some time to work on his proposal for aid from the people of Hammerfell in peace. Even as the acolytes moved quietly about the temple, she felt completely alone in that place with her god. The great shadow of Ysmir hovered over her like a comforting cloak, and she bowed her head to silently pray.

As a girl, she'd prayed to the Shrine of Talos in the hidden under room at the Inn of the Last Home whenever her father gave her permission to go. It was always full of secret worshippers, praying for crops and good weather, peace and health. Luthien had prayed for such trivial things back then. She would ask Talos to watch over her horse and bring enough snow that she and her friends could frolic and skate across the frozen pound behind their village. Sometimes she prayed for her mother and father, for her friends, for adventures to come and take her away.

Now, much like her husband, she prayed for the strength to see her through every battle that lay in her path. She prayed for Hundr, Ulfric, Farkas and the other Companions, Vilkas's soul in Sovngarde, and she asked for guidance through the darkness that shadowed her uncertain future. Maybe prayer to the father of the first dragon would have been more fitting, but she didn't think even Akatosh could help her.

Long hours passed in that place, the wind eventually dying down, though she'd hardly noticed the lull in its keen. When Ulfric finally came in to find her, he said nothing when he sat down beside her and reached for her hand before he lowered his head in prayer as well.


	19. Chapter 19

Delphine was pacing the floors of her hidden room when they made their way down the stairs to meet with her four days later. She spun around quickly and stalked toward them like a saber cat on the prowl, her blue eyes shining with intrigue.

"Well? Did you find anything?" She huffed, wringing her hands at her waist as she waited for answers.

"The Thalmor know nothing about the return of the dragons," Ulfric informed her.

"Really? That seems hard to believe. You're sure about that?"

"Why did you even send me if you weren't going to believe me?" Luthien shook her head.

"Damn it!" she cursed, turning back toward the table and leaning her hands on both sides. "I'm sorry. I just… I really thought…"

"Fortunately, it wasn't a complete and total waste of time. I managed to grab a couple things there that may be of use to us," Luthien reached into her bag and lifted out the remaining dossiers, dropping them onto the table in front of her. "Everything they have on you is in that file, and it seems they're looking for another Blade."

"Another Blade?"

"An old man named Esbern," Uflric said.

"Esbern?" The woman's voice actually cracked when she repeated his name. "He's alive? I was sure the Thalmor must have gotten him years ago. That crazy old man."

"So you know him?"

"Know him? Of course I know him. It figures the Thalmor would be on his trail if they were trying to figure out what's going on with the dragons."

"Why's that?" Ulfric crossed his arms impatiently.

"You mean aside from wanting to kill every Blade they can lay their hands on?"

Luthien's temper boiled. "Enough with the attitude, Delphine. We've put our necks on the line, now who is Esbern and why would the Thalmor want him?"

"Esbern was one of the Blades archivists, before the Thalmor smashed us in the Great War. He knew everything about the ancient Dragonlore of the Blades. Obsessed with it, really. Nobody paid much attention to it back then, but I guess he wasn't as crazy as we always thought."

"Well, apparently, this friend of yours is hiding out in Riften. There was a prisoner there, a thief they'd been torturing, and if Esbern's really there in Riften, it's only a matter of time before the Thalmor find him."

"Riften, eh? Probably hiding out in the Ratway. That's where I'd go."

"Maybe you should go find him. It sounds like he can help you more than we can."

"Me?" she balked, all the blood draining from her face. "I can't… not with the Thalmor hot on his trail. You have to go, right away."

"What?" Luthien tilted her head. "You expect _me_ to go and find him? As if I don't have enough going on right now, you want me to go into the Ratway in search of some crazy old dragon expert who may, or may not even be there?"

"Please," she winced as she spoke that word, as if having to plead for help was killing her. "If anyone will know why the dragons are back, why Alduin is raising them from their burial mounds, it'll be Esbern. He can help us…"

"Are you as sure about this as you were the Thalmor?" Ulfric interjected, his brow lifted in challenge.

Delphine blanched again, and then her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she looked away. "I was wrong about the Thalmor. I admit that, but I'm telling you. If we can get to Esbern, he can help us make sense of all this. I swear it."

"We will do this thing," Ulfric decided. "Find this old loremaster, but if this turns out to be as useless as your plan to invade the Embassy, we are done with you."

"I agree," Luthien added for good measure. She still didn't trust Delphine; having been taught long ago that anyone who treated another person with that much distrust and suspicion was really the one who had something to hide. Whatever Delphine was hiding, Luthien didn't want any part of it, and yet she found herself continually sucked into her game.

"I know Esbern will help us," she promised. "When you get to Riften, talk to a man named Brynjolf. He's well… connected, if you know what I mean. If anyone knows where to find Esbern, it'll be him."

"I know of Brynjolf," Luthien remembered.

"Good. Then you'll know exactly where to find him. Oh…" she paused a moment. "And if you think I'm paranoid, when you find Esbern you may have some trouble getting him to trust you. Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means."

As they made their way outside, Luthien's shoulders slumped with a sigh. Ever since she'd met Delphine, it had been nothing but trouble. Frankly, she was starting to think she was more trouble than she was worth.

"So it's back to Riften then," she scowled, drawing her hood up around her head.

"It would seem."

"That woman angers me."

"And with good reason, but perhaps she's right about this Esbern man. Maybe he can help you."

"I'm beginning to think no one can help me."

"We will find a way," he promised her. "Let us seek out Ralof before we go," Ulfric changed the subject.

"He is probably working at the mill, and if he's not, Gerdur will know where he can be found."

"Probably already half-drunk by now and telling stories to anyone who'll listen about dead Imperials that haunt his sleep and great battles that left him scarred." Gerdur shrugged, digging her tools into the log before dragging it onto the platform with a thud that shook the entire structure. "I wish he was more help around here, but some men know how to do naught else once they've been soldiers." When she said those words, she glanced toward Ulfric, eyes squinted as if she believed he'd single-handedly broken her brother with his war.

"Thank you," Luthien nodded. "We will find him."

"Tell him to get off his lazy ass and do something when you do," she called after them as they were walking away. "I have children who do more work than he does."

After much searching, they finally found Ralof sitting alone by fire outside Riverwood. He glanced up when he saw them coming, the dismal look he wore lifting into a smile.

"I'd heard you were dead," he rose from the stone he'd propped himself on. "I should have learned long ago not to trust such rumors. It would seem you are invincible, Dragonborn."

"It'll take more than a few dragons to kill me." Luthien stepped up and embraced him, noting that he reeked of sour ale and old sweat. "I've just spoken to your sister. Gerdur tells me you've been a little… estranged since the war ended."

"Gah, Gerdur. She wants me to split logs all day so she can sit around and get fat and rich while I do all her work for her. I'm on the lookout for dragons. Someone's got to protect Riverwood. Who's going to do it, if not me? Gerdur? Ha! I doubt it."

"Ralof," Ulfric began, mouth twisting beneath his mustache as he carefully chose his words. "You were a good soldier. Galmar speaks often of your triumphs in battle and your skills as a leader. It was thanks to your strong leadership that the Stormcloaks were able to take Fort Snowhawk that day, and we have never forgotten all you've done for us."

There it was, that way with words Ulfric seemed to have with everyone who encountered him. He could make anyone swell with pride in his presence with little more than a few well-placed words of praise, even if they weren't entirely true. She knew for a fact that Galmar had never spoken so highly of Ralof; the Stone-Fist barely even remembered his name half the time unless someone else spoke it first.

"But as I mentioned in Solitude that long day past, dark times lay ahead of us. We may have won those battles, but a larger war lingers on our horizon. Even now I fear the elves plot in secret, but we will not sit idly by and let them take our land."

"Those filthy Thalmor," Ralof scowled.

"Galmar is rebuilding our troops, gathering the sons and daughters of Skyrim and there is a place for you among my personal guard if you would be gracious enough to accept."

Stammering speechlessly, it took him several minutes before he formed the words, "It would be an honor, my king." He nearly stumbled when he tried to kneel, but Ulfric reached out and gripped his forearms, holding him steady before him.

"The honor would be mine," Ulfric conceded. "But before that day comes, I have an important task and I need someone strong, someone I can trust to carry it out for me."

"Anything you ask of me, I will do."

"First, you'll need to sober up," he laughed a little. "What I ask of you requires a clear head and all your wits. The queen and I head out to Riften this afternoon to take care of some unfinished business, but we will return in a week's time. Spend that time getting back on your feet and we will talk then."

"Of course," he nodded somberly, a hint of shame in his eyes as he glanced down at the ground. "Whatever you need me to do, I won't let you down. On my honor, I swear it."

"You are a good man, Ralof. I know you won't disappoint me."

They took their leave and were on the road west before the sun had even made its way halfway across the sky. Helgen was still quiet when they approached, the bandits not having yet returned, and so they set up camp in the Keep once more, actually grateful for the disturbing quiet of the abandoned building.


	20. Chapter 20

They rode hard through the icy mountain pass east of Helgen once more, braving the harsh and seemingly endless frigid wind and ice storms that always brought out the frost trolls in droves. They didn't stop, driving their horses hard until the frustrated roars of at least half a dozen trolls echoed at their backs, but the trolls didn't follow.

Coming out on the other side of the mountain mid-afternoon of the next day, they met with a party of Thalmor soldiers leading a prisoner west, and Ulfric leapt down from his horse with his axe drawn and ready to fight.

"This is none of your concern, citizen. Move along."

"I am no citizen," he challenged. "I am High King of Skyrim, and I demand to know what you are doing with that man."

Luthien felt her breath catch in her chest as the familiarity of the situation sunk into her. Vilkas had died challenging a group of Imperials on the road. She dismounted her horse and drew Wuuthrad from her back, holding it up to show them she was just as serious as he was. But Thalmor agents weren't like the Imperials. They fought with magic, and it was only a matter of seconds before she felt the air change with the sharp crackle of electric destruction.

The justiciar executed their prisoner with a quick flash of shock that sent the poor man flying.

But Luthien could play at that game too. She summoned her Storm Atronach and stepped back with a smug grin as it charged forward to attack. The sound of Ulfric's Thu'um sent one of the wizards flying into the stone of the mountainside and he followed, his war axe lifted and his cry ringing in her ears. She followed suit, attacking the last, unoccupied elf, blocking its magic with her ward spell as she pushed forward in order to get close enough to attack. She felt her magic draining and there was no time to replenish with a potion. Before long she would have to let down her ward and fight without it, but not if she could summon a shout.

Fire. She'd always heard the elves were especially weakened by fire. If she could just knock it back long enough to let her magic recharge. Closing her eyes for just a second, the distraction dropped her ward. Even as the wizard's shock spell seized her muscles, she could feel the power of the voice swelling inside her and then she let unrelenting force send the wizard rushing backward. He wasn't wearing armor, only a set of black and gold robes, so when he hit the rock wall behind him it knocked him loopy. At her back, Ulfric was finishing off what was left of the elf her Storm Atronarch had bloodied to a pulp. She quickly gulped down a Philter of Magicka, grateful for the swift replenishment of power. Summoning fireballs into her hand, she let them fly, frying the stunned justiciar where he lay still trying to collect himself.

The overwhelming stench of burning hair and flesh filled the air and she knelt on the ground, covering her nose and mouth, her muscles still screaming and spasming against the destruction magic that had been flooding through her just moments before. She heard the heavy rush of Ulfric's boots stamping through the snow and then his shadow passed across her back. He reached down and pulled her to her feet, worry creasing his brow.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she nodded, staggering back a little on her wobbling legs.

Her bag had fallen after she'd replenished her magic, and Ulfric knelt to pick it up, rifling through it and pulling out a health potion. She gulped it down, sighing relief as the pulses of pain began to reside from her muscles and bones.

"Maybe we should be sending our soldiers to train at the college in Winterhold," she sighed. "What good is brute force against magic that strong? I could talk to Tolfdir, maybe we could send experienced mages to our forts."

His brow wrinkled. "They are precisely the reason we should not trust in magic. Magic has never been our way. It is for those who are not strong enough to fight with their blades."

Vilkas had carried that same staunch prejudice against magic, almost scoffing at her when she'd started to express an interest in nurturing her metaphysical talents. Even after she and Farkas had defeated the rogue Thalmor wizard, Ancano and the Psijic order had placed the title Archmage on her shoulders, Vilkas had regarded her with thinly veiled distrust every time she'd fallen back on her power to get them out of a bind or to draw one of them back from the brink of severe injury. Farkas had been the only who supported her from beginning to end. He'd enthusiastically volunteered to go with her to the college and had even learned a few minor spells himself so he could be of more use to her when they were in battle together. Though Ulfric gladly accepted her healing hands if she, he'd been known to offer the occasional derogatory comment whenever the subject of magic surfaced in their conversations.

"I know you don't trust magic. Most Nords in Skyrim fear the arcane arts, and with good reason. Magic is a powerful weapon, and in the wrong hands, inexperienced or power hungry hands, its effects can be devastating. But even you can't deny that magic has saved our skin more times than I can count. I have used my healing hands to bring you back to your feet. Battle mages could do more than just heal our wounded, they could summon powerful wards to protect them, conjure bound Dremora to battle and even reanimate the fallen dead to go on fighting."

Deeply unnerved at the thought, she watched his mouth twist into a disgusted scowl. "That all may be true," he conceded. "But still…"

"I only ask you to think about it. That is all. There are plenty of students at the college looking for glory, and they all love Skyrim just as much as we do."

"Fine," he yielded, turning over his shoulder to look for their horses. "I will think about it." He sauntered away, following the distant whinny. Both of the beasts had taken off when the fighting started, and they didn't catch up with them again until they came upon an abandoned shack just below the mountain pass.

While Ulfric rounded them up, Luthien sifted through the old shack for evidence of the previous owner. All she found was a dusty old journal telling of experiments gone wrong, the last entry dated three years prior. The hay in the bed had rotted long ago and the stink of the place was almost unbearable, but she heard the distant rumble of thunder rolling across the mountain, followed by the slow, steady sound of fat rain droplets pelting through the leaves in the trees.

"Maybe we should stay here tonight," she said when he appeared in the doorway.

Wrinkling his nose against the smell, he shrugged his way through the door and looked around. "I think I'd rather sleep in the rain. It stinks like death in this place."

"It's no palace," she admitted, "but at least it's dry, and maybe a fire in the hearth will burn off some of that awful stench."

"If you wish," he shook his head.

The fire in the hearth did little for the smell, and while she'd been right about it not being a palace, she'd been wrong about it being dry. Within just a few minutes, the rain grew heavy, pelting across the rooftop and leaking down to drip on the already moldy mattress. She expected him to complain, but he didn't, instead setting up their bedrolls as far away from the dripping water as they could and then settling down to root through his pack for something they could eat.

"Eidar cheese or bread or cheese and bread?" he lifted a bemused grin toward her and then reached for her pack to see what she had brought along. "Ah, more bread and two wedges of goat cheese…"

"I'll have the bread and cheese, please, my lord," she laughed, dropping down to sit beside him.

"Your bread and cheese, my lady." He broke the loaf in half, the crust crumbling into his lap as he passed it to her.

"Thank you, kind sir."

"We rule all of Skyrim, and yet we huddle in abandoned shacks and dine on five-day bread and cheese like peasants. I won't lie to you. Sharing soldier's rations with my wife in a broken down hovel that smells worse than a thousand chamber pots was not part of my vision when I imagined becoming High King."

"You were probably all of five years old the first time you had that inclination," she chuckled. "Sweet rolls and boiled cream treats for everyone in the land. Gods, I think I would cut off my own arm for a sweet roll right now."

"My kingdom for a sweet roll," he groaned, stuffing stale bread into his mouth, still laughing as he chewed.

"I love the sound of your laughter," she said, leaning her shoulder into his as she nibbled on the dry, crumbling bits of cheese before they could fall into her bedroll. "I think because it is a sound I hear so rarely, I've come to treasure it. You're a very serious man, you know. Very introspective."

"I laugh all the time." He drew left, lifting his arm and causing her to fall into his lap before lowering it back over her, hand sliding up to rest on her belly and tug her in closer. She pulled her legs up, angling them as she rested that way against him. "I know I do not say it often enough, but your happiness is everything to me. Some would say I was a weak man for putting so much stock in the happiness of my woman, but you are not like most women."

Bringing her hand up, she ran her fingers through the coarse hairs on his chin before crawling them up his cheek. He nestled his face into her open palm, closing his eyes for a moment as he kissed her there.

"All the things you've had to endure, everything that lies ahead of you… You are the strongest woman I have ever known. Stronger than many of the men I have known too."

"I don't always feel strong," she admitted, laying her head back against the relaxed muscle of his thigh.

"But you are."

Outside the broken door swung on its hinges in the wind. She watched long streaks of lightning flash across the treetops, quaking thunder so bold she thought she felt the ground tremble beneath them. She felt Ulfric's hand slip in behind her neck, curling fingers tickling the sensitive skin there and then he was lifting her up, still half reclined as he drew her into his waiting kiss. She shuddered a little, his mouth crushing hers before trailing down over her chin and into the curve of her neck as she stretched her head back to allow him to explore further.

For a long time, he only kissed her, soft, fluttering murmurs of lips over lips, some deep, some just a mere surface caress, but every single one of them beautiful. He began to undress her, peeling away the layers of fabric that divided their bodies. In the dim light of the fire, he leaned back to look at her, naked and inviting. Tilting his head for a moment, he drew in a deep breath through his nose, hand lingering over her shoulder before he lowered it to gently touch a series of trailing, fresh bruises that lined her collar bone. He brushed kisses across them, as if his lips had power enough to heal every wound she'd ever suffer.

He lowered her facing him into his lap, drawing her legs around his hips and rising into her so slowly her body ached with the need to be filled. His eyes searched hers as they moved together in that deliberate, drawn out fashion that would soon drive them both into a frenzy of burning passion not even the cold rain could extinguish. Echoing beyond their moaning gasps of pleasure and desperate pleas for more, _yes more_, thunder clamored and in the distance she heard the crack of wings against the sky and roaring dragon protest in the night.

_This_, she thought as his reaching hands came up to cup her face and draw her whimpering kisses into his hungry mouth. This was the story of Ulfric and Luthien, the tale the bards would never sing—the warrior king and his dragon queen in an abandoned shack on the road between Helgen and Riften, pouring rain and thunder, a host of dead elves on the road behind them and a vicious army of dragons waiting to meet them up ahead.

Her story had never been all that important to her. It had always been Ulfric who spoke of the tales the bards would sing of their deeds, but in that moment every detail of their story felt so important. It was their love that would bring peace to the skies and land of Skyrim, and if she ever wanted that story to be told, at least one of them had to live.

She wasn't afraid to die, but it terrified her that she would die before her job was done. When she felt Ulfric's body stiffen with release, his warmth coursing through her as his fingers pressed hard into her flesh and muscles when he cried out, she circled her arms around his neck and they sat that way for a long time.

It would be better if they both lived, she decided, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck before tasting the salt of his skin. They were balance, and without one she feared the other would fall.

"If I die tomorrow," she began, leaning back to look into his eyes. "Will you see that my job is done."

"You are not going to die tomorrow." He kissed her forehead before lowering his brow to rest against hers. "Or the next day or the next day. I have a feeling the gods have far greater plans for you than either of us could even imagine."

"But if I do…"

"If you die and I live, I will single-handedly break the neck of every dragon in Tamriel."

"If you die," she felt her throat tighten with those words, her emotions almost so overwhelming in that moment she could barely speak. "If you die and I live, I will single-handedly crush the Aldmeri Dominion."

He was smiling, a bemused grin taunting the edges of his mouth. "Then it is settled. Sovngarde calls us, but at least we know our work here will be done if one of us must answer before the other."


	21. Chapter 21

Despite the chill in the air and frigid waters, they'd bathed in the Darkwater River, shivering as they washed that horrid stench from their skin and hair, but grateful to be rid of it. They took turns sitting in their camp by the fire, combing the tangles from each other's hair, careful to avoid disentangling each other's warrior braids.

Ralof had given her her first braid the night they'd arrived in Riverwood after escaping Helgen. Her small village had been home to a few veterans from the Great War, but she hadn't realize how significant it was until Ralof explained. "A braid is a true mark of a warrior," he'd told her, holding out the twisted strands of his wild blond hair. He'd bragged that the four he wore in his hair symbolized the first four men he'd killed, but no matter the number, each warrior's braids were of personal significance. Some marked deeds of valor, other the number of wars they'd been in, and even others still braided every lock of hair on their head to show how many men they'd run their blade through, but no matter what they meant to the warrior herself, they were a badge of honor to be worn with pride.

Ulfric wore two, one for each war in which he'd been a soldier. He'd told her once that his father had given him his first braid the day he left to join the Imperial Legion; the second he'd braided himself after shouting King Torygg to the ground and pushing a sword through his heart; marking the start of his own personal war for his homeland.

"She cut it off, you know." His voice was so quiet, almost calm when he spoke those words. "Elenwen, I mean. It was her first act of cruelty against me." She felt his fingers pulling together a thin lock of hair on the right side of her head, deftly twining it, pulling tight as he wove the strands together. "She cut off my braid and burned it in the palm of her hand to dishonor me. She said I was no warrior and she would prove it."

When she tried to turn her head to look at him, he steadied her with his hand so he could finish his task.

"I promised her that day that I would cut off her head and throw it into a fire, right before I spat in her face. Of all the things she did to me, I think that hurt my pride more than any of the other horrors I suffered at her hands."

"That makes me so sad."

"It is over now. I grew it back." He shrugged, as if the heaviness of his soul had waned a little just by sharing that dark, hidden part of himself with her. He leaned back to look at her. "You are a great warrior, heart of my heart," he said, circling a thin strip of leather around the base to hold it in place. "Let the world see that." She reached up to touch it, fingers caressing the tightly woven strands as she found her smile. "Though I don't think even you have enough hair on your pretty head to braid for every dragon you've already slain."

They had decided there was no sense in hiding who they were anymore, and so they marched toward the front gates of Riften unhooded, the nauseating smell of Lake Honrich an almost welcome scent after their night in that abandoned shack. The guard at the front gate was the same one who'd harassed them the last time they'd been in town, but he recognized Ulfric immediately bowing in reverence as he opened the gates to allow them passage.

It was mid-afternoon, and the people of Riften wandered about the merchant circle buying, selling, trading gossip. Ulfric let her do the talking, lingering at her shoulder while she asked about the Thieves Guild and the Ratway. The general consensus in town was that she should stay away from both, unless she was planning to shut it down, in which case they would all rejoice and name their firstborn children after her.

She had no intention of shutting down the Thieves Guild. Even if it was a criminal faction, every faction served a purpose in some way. She didn't agree with the things the Thieves Guild stood for, but for some people it was a way of life and the only way they were able to get by. As they made their way into the dank, dripping cellars of the Ratway beneath Lake Honrich, Ulfric crouched behind her muttering, "I didn't think I'd ever say this, but that shack actually smelled better than this place."

He was right. The Ratway reeked of old piss, rot and body odor and to make matters worse, navigating its dark, winding tunnels was a virtual nightmare. They met with brigands and sellswords who couldn't wait to stab them in the back and count out their coin, and when Ulfric unleashed his Thu'um to drive them back, she swore the rumbling of its thunder would bring the entire shanty town of Riften down on their heads.

"Let's not do that again." She yanked Wuuthrad from the dead body beneath her feet, a spray of blood splashing up against to slick her armor.

Ulfric reached to brush the dust and stone from his hair, shrugging a little as he mumbled, "Sorry."

The must have navigated those tunnels for more than two hours, fighting back skeevers, brawlers and spiders before they finally came to the doors of the Ragged Flagon and made their way into the dark headquarters of the Thieves Guild. They were met by a tall, broad-shouldered man with a gapped-toothed sneer and blond mutton chops, who assured them that one false move would see them both dead.

"I'm here to see Brynjolf," she explained.

"Nobody here by that name," the mutton-chopped brigand growled, crossing his arms.

"What do they want, Dirge?" She looked toward the sound of that melodious voice, recognizing it immediately and remembering her very first trip to Riften more than four years earlier. He'd coaxed her with the sweet promise of more coin than she could ever carry and called her lass when he'd reached up to tuck the braid behind her ear. She'd been so mad at Vilkas at the time, she had momentarily considered taking the thief up on his offer just so he wouldn't stop calling her lass in that tender brogue.

"Said they're looking for Brynjolf."

He stalked toward them with a swagger that almost nearly matched Ulfric's in confidence, lowering the hood around his shoulders to loose the flowing locks of his fiery red hair, he cleared his throat. "Finally come to take me up on my offer, lass? I can't think of any other reason the queen from above would make her way down below. I hear your kingdom is in desperate need of coin now that you've liberated us from the cruel yolk of Imperial oppression."

Luthien actually laughed, especially when she saw Ulfric's furrowed brow over her shoulder. "You actually know this man?"

"Not exactly," she shook her head. "We met once, long ago, but he promised me the world that day if I would just find the courage to reach into the depths of other people's pockets and take it."

"Thieves," Ulfric grumbled.

"We are all thieves in our own right, my lord," Brynjolf bowed his head. "Even you, King Ulfric. Some say you stole the throne right out from under Torygg. You have to be a pretty damn good thief to steal an entire kingdom, not that I give a damn what games you lords and ladies play, but I do commend you for your tenacity nonetheless." Turning his attention to Luthien, he asked, "What can I do for you, lass?"

"Actually, we need your help."

He laughed then, a hearty chuckle that probably went on much longer than he intended it to. "You made it perfectly clear you haven't the stomach for the kind of work I do. How could I possibly be of help to you?"

"We're looking for someone. Delphine of Riverwood told us you would be the best person to ask."

"Ah," he nodded. "Delphine. Then you search for the lost Blade who's made his home here."

"You know where we can find Esbern?"

"Maybe I do," he shrugged. "Maybe I don't. Information like that doesn't come cheap, if you get my meaning."

"What do you want, Brynjolf?" Luthien asked.

"A hefty bag of gold would be nice," he shrugged. "Maybe enough to help get the guild back on its feet again."

"How about five hundred septims?" Ulfric offered.

"Really, I'm insulted." Brynjolf frowned. "I'll tell you what, double that offer and I might be persuaded to loosen my tongue."

Ulfric was quiet a moment as he regarded the man in front of him, and then he nodded. "Consider it done."

"I will consider it done when the gold is in my hand."

"Half now and half when the old man is safely out of this place and delivered to his destination."

Brynjolf winced, sucking the air between his teeth. "I don't think so. All now, or no deal."

"Or how about nothing at all, and we will just find him on our own."

"Yeah," he laughed. "Good luck with that."

Luthien had a feeling the two of them could go on all day at that game, so she stepped between them and held up her hand. "I'll tell you what," she began. "We will give you seven-fifty gold right now and the promise of seven-fifty more when Esbern is safe. That is three times our original offer and more than enough to help you thieves clean up your little rathole."

"That sounds like a fair deal." Brynjolf nodded, turning his gaze to Ulfric. "What say you, your Highness? Can you cough up the gold?"

Ulfric begrudgingly handed over the coin, which Brynjolf weighed out with a delighted grin. "I've gotta tell you, lass. It's a damn shame you walked away that day," he winked before he sauntered over to the table to lay down his price. "You may be handy with a war axe against dragons, but you would have been a beautiful little thief. I bet you could have given our Vex a run for her money."

"Where do we find Esbern?"

"You'll find him in the Warrens, but be forewarned. Two of our ranks went missing a few weeks back. Turns out one of them was working with the Thalmor, who've been snooping around these parts as well since he disappeared. We didn't tell them anything, not after what they did to Retienne, but there's no telling what that rat Gissur already told them."

"Is Retienne… all right?"

"He's safe, hidden away for now. He says a beautiful woman saved him and set him free, but she wouldn't tell him her name. Maybe you make for a better hero than a thief after all, lass."

The directions Brynjolf gave them through the Warrens were a muddle of confusion, and they met with a host of Thalmor just outside the Ragged Flagon. Ulfric charged into battle with a taunt, while she summoned her magic and together they got the job done, but there were more waiting in the hallways and alcoves all throughout the Warrens and before long it seemed they were in an epic battle to see who would reach Esbern first.

When they approached the door, she could hear them in distant corridors calling out warnings. "I'm going to find you, and when I do, you'll wish you'd never been born."

"I'll watch the door," Ulfric said.

She knocked on the cracked wooden door, drawing in a breath through her nose and holding it while she waited for an answer.

"Go away," an old voice on the other side. "I'm very busy."

"Esbern? Open the door. I'm a friend."

"No, that's not me." She could hear his words trembling through his throat. "I'm not Esbern. I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's okay, Esbern. Delphine sent me."

There was painful relief in the speaking of her name, "Delphine? How do you… So… you've finally found her? And she led you to me… and here I am caught like a rat in a trap."

"Yes, I know exactly where she is and I can take you to her, but we have to move quickly. The Thalmor have found you. We need to get you out of here."

"Then I suppose this is the end of poor old Esbern," he said.

"Esbern, I swear. I haven't come to hurt you. Please, open the door. There are Thalmor agents in the Ratway searching for you. I don't know how much longer we can hold them off alone."

"And no doubt you are one of them. Go away. I'm not opening this door for anybody."

"If that old man gets us killed…" Ulfric growled.

"Delphine needs your help to stop the dragons. I'm the one the Blades have been searching for. I'm the Dragonborn."

"Dragonborn… did you say… Then… there really is hope after all. You'd better come inside. Quickly now! Thalmor agents have been seen in the Ratway."

"Ysmir's beard," she heard Ulfric mutter. "If we live through this I'm going to strangle Delphine with my bare hands."

"This'll just take a moment." She could hear Esbern unlocking a series of bolts and chains on the other side of the door, the echo of Thalmor agents drawing closer. "This one always sticks. Ah, there we go. Only a couple more. There we are. Come in, make yourself at home."

She and Ulfric slipped into the tiny cell of a room and the scrawny, bearded old man dressed in little more than rags closed the door behind them. As he turned to look at her, he regarded Ulfric suspiciously and then he focused his sights on her. "You? Dragonborn… Is it really true?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I am the Dragonborn."

"If you are Dragonborn, as you say, then there is still hope after all. For so long, all I could do was watch our doom approach, helplessly."

"You speak of Alduin?" she asked.

"You know of him?"

"He haunts her dreams every night," Ulfric said.

"Ah, then you are aware then that the return of the dragons is merely nothing more than the final portent to the End of Days, yes?"

"End of days?" she repeated. "You're talking about the literal end of the world…" She had seen it so many times, running helplessly through the fields, arms heavy with the weight of her children and a great shadow of doom at her back. And when the meteor showers rained down around her, the ground beneath her feet began to liquefy and melt, drawing her and everything she loved into darkness.

"Oh yes," he nodded. "The prophecies make clear the signs that will precede the end times. One by one, I have seen them fulfilled. Alduin has returned, just as the prophecy said. The dragon from the dawn of time who devours the souls of the dead. No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife. Alduin will devour all things and the world can end. Nothing can stop him."

She shuddered, a series of chills rippling through her that were so powerful she could feel her knees begin to shake. If not for Ulfric's hand on her shoulder, fingers curling into her muscle to hold her steady and remind her of her strength, she might have fallen.

"No," she refused his doom. "It is not hopeless. I am the Dragonborn."

Humbled for a moment, the old man lowered his head, shaking it. "Yes, yes. You're right. I forget myself I've… I have lived without hope for so long. The prophecies are clear. Only the Dragonborn can stop Alduin."

"Then he can be stopped?" Ulfric asked.

Esbern went on as if he hadn't heard him, saying, "We must go. Quickly now. Take me to Delphine. There is so much we have to discuss."

"Can Alduin be stopped, old man?" Ulfric spoke up.

"Yes, yes. In good time I will explain everything. But please give me just a moment, there are a few things I must gather."

While Esbern rushed around his small apartment, she turned to Ulfric, a spark of hope mingling with dread. It was true then, everything her dreams had spoken of was true. They were on the edge of the End Times, and if what Esbern said was true, only she could stop them from coming.

"This is bigger than just Skyrim now, Ulfric."

He'd been chewing at the corner of his mouth, deep in thought. "I know."

"We're talking about the end of everything."

"I know," he repeated, firming the edge on his voice.

At her back she could hear Esbern muttering to himself as he packed his things. He was looking for his annotated Anuad, but nothing he was mumbling seemed to matter in the wake of what he'd told her just moments before. Night after night, she'd stood witness to the End of Days, but something else he'd said to her lingered amidst thoughts of foreboding and doom.

"Esbern, what did you mean when you said no one escapes his hunger, here or in the afterlife?"

But before he could answer they heard a host of footsteps in the hallway. "This way, just up there."

"We've got company," Ulfric called out.

"Damn it! I guess that's good enough," Esbern said. "All right, let's go."

"Get ready for a fight," she heard Ulfric say over his shoulder as he reached for the door.

She summoned her Storm Atronach before he'd even finished opening the door, and it rushed out to meet with the Thalmor on the stairs. "A fellow magic user," Esbern beamed, as if they were simply heading out for a lazy afternoon stroll through the Ratway. "That will definitely come in handy." He summoned a Fire Atronach that swept up to fight beside hers.

She'd thought stumbling through the Ratway had been difficult before, but the Thalmor seemed to come out in never ending droves, and as soon as they ended one meeting with them, another bloody, shock and fire-fueled battle began just around the next corner. She could feel her magicka draining quickly, and there was no time to replenish it.

"Esbern, do you know an easy way out of here?"

"Of course," he grinned. "Follow me."

The Thalmor thinned out the further they grew from the Warrens, but met them again as they raced through the Ragged Flagon, coming in the opposite door and unleashing bolts of lightning that caught her off guard. Ulfric's Thu'um thundered through the cavern, knocking the two soldiers backward long enough for the three of them to unleash an attack. Cutting them down quickly, they raced up the stairs and out the door the Thalmor had come in, scurrying behind Esbern as he guided them toward the exit.

As he pushed through the door to the Ratway, the outside air rushed into her lungs and she swore at that moment she'd never been so happy to smell fish and stagnant water in her life. She breathed in a heavy sigh of relief, but Ulfric was quick to remind her that though their troubles may have been behind them for a moment, it was only a matter of time before they caught up with them again.

Esbern squinted against the daylight, as if he hadn't seen the sun in years. From the looks of him, Luthien guessed he probably hadn't.

"We need to get out of Riften," Ulfric announced. "And fast."

"We'll need another horse," Luthien sighed.

"I don't suppose you have any coin, old man?"

"Me?" Esbern shrugged. "A little bit, but not enough for a horse."

Ulfric's shoulders slumped, a heavy breath deflating his broad chest. "Why is everything with Delphine such a headache?" He muttered into his beard, shaking his head as he started up the rickety stairs to the pier.

"You've got a headache, did you say? I think there's a tonic in my bag…" Esbern followed him up the steps, digging through his worn and tattered satchel as he walked.


	22. Chapter 22

Luthien wasn't going to lie. She'd liked it better when it had just been her and Ulfric, alone on the road. Not that Esbern's magic didn't come in handy when they met with an Elder Dragon on the road just near the abandoned shack where she and Ulfric had spent their last night alone together. He had stepped back in marvelous wonder as the dragon's soul whirled and danced around her, seeping into her very pores until she and the soul were one. "It is true then," he murmured in awe. "You really are the Dragonborn. Take those bones and scales. There is a potion that can be made…"

Despite his utter brilliance, the old man's mind was more than just a bit scattered. He reminded her almost instantly of Tolfdir. Try as she might to get him to talk to her about the prophecies of the End Times, he almost always seemed to find a way to weasel out of discussion, as if he still didn't trust them.

"I don't care what you say, woman. I will die before I sleep in that gods damned shack again," Ulfric told her, dropping his shield and supplies on the ground upwind from the shack. "We'll set up camp outside tonight."

He slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder and went off to hunt for game while she set up their camp, Esbern milling about almost uselessly while she did all the work.

"Esbern?"

"What? Did you say something? You'll have to speak up. My hearing's not what it once was."

"What happened on the 30th of Frostfall? Delphine told me to ask you."

All the wrinkles in the old leather of his skin seemed to soften then, as if despite the bloody trail of dead Thalmor they'd left behind them in Riften, and the dragon soul he'd just watched her absorb, those words were what finally made him trust her. "It was a cold day," he said. "The end of Frostfall is nearly winter in the Jerall Mountains. We heard the news at Cloud Ruler by courier, riding hard from the Imperial City. 30th of Frostfall, 171… more than thirty years ago. The Great War started that day. The Thalmor ambassador delivered his ultimatum to Emperor Titus Mede: the heads of every Blades agent within the Aldmeri Dominion. I knew that day that it was truly the beginning of the end."

"Hm," she didn't know what else to say. It felt like just another reason to go to war with the Aldmeri Dominion; already there were so many.

"Is she well?" He interrupted her thought.

"Delphine?"

"Yes."

"As well as she can be, I suppose. She lives in Riverwood, just through the mountain pass and beyond Helgen."

"I should have known she was still out there," he said softly. "She always was a little spitfire, that girl," and then he laughed.

"You said something, when we were back in the Ratway, something that I can't stop thinking about."

"What was that?"

"About Alduin. You said no one escapes his hunger. Here or in the afterlife."

"Oh yes, that. Surely you know at least some of the lore. Alduin feeds on the souls of both the living and the dead, and though I can't be completely certain, I believe his feasting ground, where he gains all of his power at present, is Sovngarde."

That woozy feeling that overwhelmed her in the Ratway was back. Fortunately she was already sitting down. She needed only to close her eyes in order to hear Farkas's voice, the words he'd sworn to her twice, that he could hear Vilkas calling out to him. _Brother, I am lost. I'm lost and so afraid. Please, can you show me the way…_

"There is much we need to discuss when we meet with Delphine." The sound of his voice drew her from that dark place reluctantly, and when she looked up she was glad to see Ulfric stalking back to camp, several limp rabbits clutched in his grip.

She didn't sleep that night, taking first watch with her back against a tree and her mind a million miles away. She could never tell Farkas; it would crush him in ways he would never recover from. Ysmir's beard, she didn't know if she was going to recover from knowing what she now knew. Despite the heart wrenching agony, it had at least brought her a little peace knowing Vilkas had died with his blade in his hand; that after everything they'd gone through to free themselves of their wolf spirits, he could go with honor to the Hall of Valor and spend an eternity. And did that mean Kodlak too? And what of all their shield-sisters and brothers who had died battling the Empire during the Civil War?

Ulfric woke slowly just an hour before dawn; she saw him sit up in his bedroll and scan his surroundings as if he'd forgotten where he was. He sat there collecting himself for a few minutes before standing and walking toward her.

"You didn't wake me to take watch."

"I'm not tired. Go back to sleep and I will wake you at dawn."

"You're not tired, or your mind is too heavy with thought to sleep. Which is the truth?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe both."

He reached down and took her hands, drawing her into his chest. "What troubles you, my heart?"

"What doesn't trouble me?" she mumbled, pulling back from his arms. "We edge closer to war with the entire Aldmeri Dominion, but even worse, we stand on the brink of the end of our world and I'm the one expected to hold it back. If I would have known this doom was coming, I would have held my son close to me so I could be with him at the end of days." She was lying to herself when she'd said that. She _had_ known it was coming; she just hadn't wanted to believe it and it took hearing the words out loud from someone else to wake her up.

"Woman!" He reached for her again, holding her tight to him almost against her will. "You are strong. Whatever you must face, you will face it. You are the Dragonborn."

"You know what that old man told me tonight? He said that he believes Alduin has turned Sovngarde into his feeding grounds. That he's drawing his power from the souls of the glorious dead. Which means all those soldiers who died liberating Skyrim from the Empire have fed his insatiable hunger, Ulfric. People we loved, people we cared about, people who died for us…"

That stunned him to silence, the two of them just standing there in the cold grey twilight while their fire burned low at their backs and sputtered in the soft wind.

"Farkas told me something, something awful. When we were at Fort Hraggstad, he almost died, you know."

"Yes, I remember," he nodded solemnly.

"The next day, before I left for Solitude, he said he could hear his brother calling out to him when he was in that place between life and death. Vilkas was calling out to him, saying he was lost and afraid, pleading for him to come and show him the way. When we were in Whiterun, he told me he still can't get it out of his mind. That every time he closes his eyes that voice is there and it terrifies him."

Try as she might to hold them back, she could finally feel the tears she'd been fighting for days. When she blinked, they slipped down her cheeks, a flutter of warmth against her cold skin before dripping off her chin. He reached brought her back into his arms, gently that time, hands holding her head against his chest as she sobbed.

"What are we fighting for, Ulfric? I just… I don't understand. If there isn't any hope…"

"We fight so our son can live." He lifted her chin and kissed her damp cheeks. "He is our hope in this dark world and no matter what we fight against, we will fight until our death if we must so our son and all the children of Skyrim can live."

She wanted to believe him, and though she yielded outwardly, inside she still struggled.

The road to Helgen was quiet, the dead Thalmor still frozen where they'd fallen in battle, bodies littering the pass. They road straight through, not stopping in the ruins, but driving into Riverwood so late that it was actually early, the blue light of the rising sun cutting through the clouds that misted across the mountains as they tethered their horses outside the Sleeping Giant Inn.

At their backs, she could already hear the mill running and when she shielded her eyes to look, she smiled to see Ralof and Faendal already hard at work splitting logs. "It looks like Ralof kept his promise," she nudged Ulfric and he followed her gaze, the left corner of his mouth twitching into a grin as he nodded.

"And I will keep mine, but first…"

He gestured for Esbern to take the stairs first, and tentatively the old man stepped up to the door. Despite the early hour, Delphine was already awake, sweeping her broom across the spotless floor as if she'd done nothing but pace it clean since they'd gone off to find her old friend and mentor.

She looked up, and for a moment Luthien thought she was going to drop the broom where she stood and run into the old man's arms, but she didn't. She remained stoic, turning and propping the broom up against the wall behind her before sauntering forward to meet them. It was Esbern who spoke first, the emotion in his voice so overwhelming, he sounded as if he might cry.

"Delphine?" He reached for her hands, holding them up as he looked her over. "It…it really is you. All these years, they've been kind to you. It… it's been a long time. It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Esbern." The woman's mouth seemed to be fighting hard against the inklings of a relieved smile. "It's been too long, my old friend. Too long."

For a moment, Ulfric and Luthien just stood off to the side, allowing them to take one another in. She felt his hand lift up to rest on her shoulder and when she glanced up to look at him, for the first time since they'd met Delphine together, he was actually smiling in her general direction. "It gives me hope," he said, lowering his gaze over her and emphasizing that final word for her benefit.

She returned her stare to the two old friends in front of them. Delphine softening as she finally gave in and embraced the frail old man before her. "Well then, now that we're all here, safe and sound, I have a safe place we can talk. Follow me. Orgnar," she called out. "Hold down the bar for a few minutes, would you?"

"Because we're completely overwhelmed with customers," he muttered, not even rising from his stool behind the counter. "Yeah, sure, Delphine. Anything you say."

They followed her into the right hand room and through the secret panel behind the wardrobe that led to her underground quarters. Once inside, she closed the door and turned around to face them, all business again as she crossed her arms and said, "Let's see what Esbern has to say." Esbern walked to the table and sat down to rest his old bones, and though Delphine had said they should let him talk, she started the conversation anyway. "Now then, I assume you know about…"

"Oh yes. The Dragonborn? Indeed. This changes everything, of course. There's no time to lose. We must find… Let me show you. I know I had it somewhere…"

"Esbern, what are you babbling on about?"

"Just a moment, let me gather my thoughts, please. My mind is not what it once was, Delphine."

Luthien looked between the three of them, Ulfric and Delphine both with their arms crossed almost impatiently, Esbern wracking his addled brain for the right words as he dug through his belongings for the right prop to stimulate his memory. It was not a hopeful sight, no matter what Ulfric had said outside. If there only hope against Alduin was a fifty-four-year-old Blades agent with a chip on her shoulder and an old man who couldn't even remember he was wearing clothes… they were doomed.

"Ah yes," Esbern cried triumphantly, drawing a heavy tome from his satchel and dropping it on the table with a dusty thud. "Here it is. Come, all of you. Gather around. Let me show you." He opened the book and flipped through the pages until he arrived on an etching. "You see, right here," he tapped the etching with the nub of his chewed fingernail. "Sky Haven Temple."

Ulfric cleared his throat. "What is Sky Haven Temple?"

"It was constructed around one of the main Akaviri military camps in The Reach during their conquest of Skyrim."

"Esbern, I have no idea what you're talking about," Delphine sighed.

"Shh—" he hushed her with a finger to his lips, bits of spittle flying across the pages of the tome. Urag would have crushed that old man like a bug if he'd seen him disrespect a book so brutally. "This is where they built Alduin's Wall, to set down in stone all their accumulated dragonlore, a hedge against the forgetfulness of centuries. A wise and foresighted event, in the event."

"And you think this wall might still be there?" Luthien asked.

"Despite the far-reaching fame of Alduin's Wall at the time, one of the wonders of the ancient world, its location was lost."

"Why did I think this was actually going somewhere?" Ulfric twisted his jaw as he leaned back, face contorted in frustration. "Wake me up when you actually have something we can use."

"Esbern, what are you getting at?" Delphine interjected.

"You mean to say you haven't heard of Alduin's Wall? Any of you?"

"Let's pretend we haven't," Delphine played to his scholarly ego for a moment. "What is Alduin's Wall, and what does it have to do with stopping the dragons?"

"More importantly," Luthien spoke up. "What does it have to do with defeating Alduin?"

"Alduin's Wall was where the Ancient Blades recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return. Part history, part prophecy. Its location has been lost for centuries, but you see, I've found it again. Not lost, you see. Just forgotten. The Blades archives held so many secrets, but I'm afraid I was only able to save but a few scraps…"

"Are you saying you know where we can find Alduin's Wall?"

"Haven't any of you been paying attention? I've already told you it's in The Reach."

"So you think Alduin's Wall can tell us how to defeat Alduin?" Delphine asked.

"Delphine, please, pay attention. You might learn something. We need to leave at once and head to Sky Haven Temple. I don't know what we will find waiting for us there, but I am almost willing to bet everything I have the answers we seek are there."

"We have other business we must see to first. Defeating Alduin is of the highest priority, I agree, but our country stands on the brink of war and as High King it is my duty to make certain we hold that war back as long as possible." Ulfric said. "Show me on our map where we can find this temple in the sky, and we will meet you there in a few days' time."

Esbern marked the location on the map with a stick of charcoal and Ulfric folded it up again, returning it to his satchel. "That is Forsworn territory," he furrowed his brow. "Be careful out there."

"Don't keep us waiting too long," Delphine spoke up.


	23. Chapter 23

It wasn't much, but it was a bit of hope, Luthien thought, as she and Ulfric hunted down Ralof at the mill. When he saw them coming, he called over his shoulder to let Gerdur know he was taking a break to speak with them. She looked up from her task, a soft smile lifting the corners of her mouth when she met with Luthien's gaze. She didn't know what they'd said to him, but they had given Gerdur her brother back and she was glad. Sadly, they were going to be taking him away again.

"Is there someplace quiet we can talk?" Ulfric asked.

"Gerdur's house," Ralof nodded, leading them to the house.

They sat down at the table, Hod getting up to leave them alone, but not until after he'd offered them all warm mugs of strong Nord mead to wet their road-thirsty throats. Ralof didn't touch his, but instead leaned across the table almost eagerly, waiting for his king to speak.

"You look well," Ulfric noted.

"I feel better than I have in a long time," he admitted. "Sometimes the dreams still trouble my sleep… The faces of all those men who died at the end of my axe…"

"Only a monster kills without remorse," he said.

"I suppose you're right." Ralof nodded, and for a long moment he mused on that thought before lifting his gaze back to Ulfric's. "Now, what is it you need for me to do, King Ulfric? Ha! I never get tired of calling you that."

"You were a good soldier, Ralof. You pledged your service to me long ago, and though that battle is over I fear a much larger war awaits us in the not-so-distant future."

"The Thalmor…" Ralof spat on the floor beside the table. "Curse them all."

"Talos be praised," Luthien agreed.

With a heavy sigh, Ulfric slumped forward on the bench, resting his forearms on the table in front of him. "In its own way, that war has already begun, no small thanks in part to our actions of late. Luthien and I recently infiltrated the Embassy in search of evidence of Thalmor affiliation with the dragons. We found nothing, but… there were other things. Things we can no longer sit idly by and tolerate. It is no small secret that I was taken prisoner during the Great War. Brutally tortured and left scarred with hatred so deep, it haunts my sleep every night when I close my eyes. On our travels we have encountered others, prisoners we've set free from Thalmor tyranny, but there are so many who cannot be saved. Would that I could free them all and let them live in peace…" Another long breath escaped him and then he shook his head. "Lo though, I do digress… Skyrim suffered immensely because of our war. Though I do not regret a single action we took against the Empire, I know in my heart it is only a matter of time before we must fight again to keep our land and our people safe, but we are weak right now."

"And that weakness makes us prey to the Thalmor," Luthien added.

"We need allies," Ulfric added. "As much as I hate the idea of asking anyone for help, I need to send an Emissary into Hammerfell, to treat with Kematu, who is no friend to the Dominion. That is where you come in, my friend."

Luthien had watched Ralof's face during the entire conversation. Wide blue eyes narrowing from time to time as he tried to make sense of all they were telling him. After Ulfric's last words, he was silent for a time, as if he didn't have any words, or he couldn't form them properly. He stammered a little when he finally spoke, stumbling over his words. "You… you want me to go to the Alik'r Desert as an Emissary?"

"It is a big job," Ulfric nodded. "I know this, and it is a lot to ask of a son of the snow to make his way into the arid desert on a mission there are no guarantees he will even return from. It will be dangerous…"

"I've never feared danger," Ralof assured him. "I just… Why me?"

"Because you are a true Son of Skyrim, Ralof, and there are few others I know I can trust with a task this important."

She swore she saw tears in the younger man's eyes, but he didn't shed them, only blinked and dropped his hand down onto the table. "Then I guess I journey to the desert. How soon do you want me to leave?"

"As soon as your affairs are in order."

"I will leave tomorrow at dawn," he said. "And I won't let you down."

"Thank you, Ralof. I knew I could count on you. Return to Windhelm after you've met with the Alik'r, and if I am not there, wait for me to return."

"Of course, my king."

"And Ralof," Ulfric said, rising from the table. "Be careful out there. There are things in the desert… It is unlike any place you've ever been. Dangerous, hot. Always make sure you have plenty of water. It would be wise to take a companion on this journey with you. Someone you can trust as much as I trust you."

Ralof considered that for a moment, and then he nodded. "I know someone."

"Good. Talos be with you, brother."

It wasn't even afternoon yet as they made their way through the quiet, peaceful streets of Riverwood, but Luthien was exhausted. She could feel the long aches and weariness of her sleepless night finally catching up with her, but as tired as she was, she didn't know if sleep would claim her when she actually laid down her head. After untethering their horses, they began to head out, north, both of them so quiet she could hear every bird in the trees on the path to Whiterun.

"I'd like to stay in Whiterun tonight," she finally spoke up. "After learning the things I did from Esbern, I feel like I need to see Farkas again. Make sure he's all right."

"You aren't going to tell him… what Esbern told you?"

"No," she shook her head. "It would kill him, but I wish to see him nonetheless. I miss him."

Ulfric nodded quiet understanding. "We will stay in Whiterun tonight, and perhaps you will convince him to make the journey with us to Sky Haven Temple. If we head into Forsworn territory, we could surely use another strong sword arm."

Fat, heavy rain clouds rolled in over the light of the sun and a slow drizzle pattered the road to Whiterun, following them all the way and lingering over the busy town when they arrived just before dusk. Ulfric was already stripping out of his gear and starting a fire before she'd shut the door of Breezehome; a part of him actually growing use to its minimal comfort after some of the dank and wretched places they'd been forced to sleep over the last couple months.

She could feel the excitement building in her belly at the thought of seeing her closest, dearest friend again. It had only been weeks, but it always felt like years when they'd been apart for more than a couple of days. The prospect of inviting him to travel with them titillated her. Farkas had been her first shield-brother, her stalwart and most trusted companion, and there had once been a time it would have been him working beside her to unravel the mysteries she faced.

Though she loved Ulfric, and was glad to have her husband fighting back the darkness with her, a part of her could never deny she missed the stories Farkas used to tell while they were parked around their camp fire on their way to slay a dragon for one of the jarls, or to find some staff for the Psijic Order that wasn't actually in the belly of some old Dwemer ruin full of bandits, chaurus and blind Falmer with poisoned arrow-tips and vengeful hearts.

Even then, knowing she was the Dragonborn had seemed like some rare perk, an exciting mystery they could joke about while passing a bottle of mead back and forth and trying to imagine what it all really meant. Vilkas told her she'd been young and green when she'd come to Jorrvaskr, and she thought everything they'd endured in that first year together had made her smarter, but even after that, she and Farkas had been so reckless, almost stupid, laying a challenge out to anyone who dared to try and stop them from whatever goal they had to meet. Whenever the rare occurrence arose that Vilkas traveled with them, he never failed to remark on their blind recklessness that was sure to get them both killed. In the end, it had gotten Vilkas killed, and though she'd moved on, she had never forgiven herself for his death.

It had only been a couple of years since those days had been the norm, but she felt like decades had passed them by and left them in a haze of darkness and foreboding that was never going to end.

She'd expected to find him out back in the practice yard, but Torvar was there sharpening his sword with a whetstone and carrying on the same argument with Athis the two of them had been having for years. Stealth versus force–which was the superior element in battle?

"Harbinger," Athis nodded toward her.

"You lookin for the big guy?" Torvar asked, lowering his stone and reaching for his ale. "He's inside."

"Are you both well?" she asked.

"Well as we can be," he shrugged. "Plenty of work keeping us busy."

"That's good to hear," she nodded, walking toward the back doors and heading into Jorrvaskr.

Tilma directed her down the stairs, and at first she peeked around the corner into his room, but he wasn't there. She heard shuffling at her back and turned to find him hovering in the doorway of Vilkas's old room. He looked better than he had the last time she'd seen him, his hair was clean, but he was still wearing that knotted beard he'd grown in the months he'd traveled alone to look for Lydia. It suited him, but it made him look rougher, older, less like Vilkas.

"Oh, hey." She watched his face light up as he realized it was her. "I was just thinking about you."

"I must have heard your thoughts and they brought me to you."

"Huh," he nodded and then shrugged. "I doubt it. If you ever overheard the kind of thoughts I think about you, you'd probably punch me in the teeth."

"I should punch you in the teeth anyway just for saying that. Come here, you." She lifted her arms around his neck and fell into him, a part of her instantly relaxing as he embraced her.

"I wasn't sure you guys would make it back this way, what with every Thalmor in Skyrim on the lookout for you on the road. You made quite a ruckus," he noted, pulling back to look at her. "What in the name of the Nine Divines did you do up there at the Embassy? Set the damn place on fire?"

"I stole some of their important documents, but that probably had nothing to do with why they're looking for us now. We found another Blades agent, a man they've been looking for since the dragons came back and we had to personally escort him out of Riften."

"Damn," he shook his head.

"We're heading out tomorrow morning to meet with him and Delphine at some temple to read Alduin's Wall if we can find it."

"Alduin's Wall? What's that?"

"Some ancient historical and prophetic carvings. Esbern says they may show me how to defeat Alduin."

"Who's Esbern?"

"The Blade we found in Riften."

"Oh," he nodded. "Well, that sounds like good news then."

"I think it is," she shrugged, stepping past him into Vilkas's old room and trying not to let it get to her. Even after more than three years, it still smelled like him. Lavender, leather and steel… If she closed her eyes she could almost trick herself into believing he was standing there with her, but she couldn't… she wouldn't. It would bring out her emotions and she needed to keep those safe from Farkas as long as she could, if not forever. "How about you? How've you been?"

"Oh, you know," he hiked his shoulders up. "Try to keep myself busy, but there's only so much muscle a guy can flex before he starts to get bored. I think all that war made me too bloodthirsty for my own good. I get anxious when new jobs come in, hoping it's bandits or escaped criminals, so I can use my blade… but I think Aela knows that because she keeps sending Torvar and Athis before I hear word of it."

"Aela is a smart woman." She turned back to look at him in the light and saw that underlying sadness still lingering in his eyes. "It won't be long before your thirsty blade is quenched again. There will be war enough for everyone soon, I'm afraid," she lamented, lowering her gaze. "Ulfric's sent Ralof to Hammerfell to treat with the Alik'r and he's got Galmar petitioning the jarls for more men and women to fill our forts for training."

"I knew it wouldn't be long before he started another war we can't afford to fight," he muttered, his back teeth clenching together so tight she swore she heard his jaw crack.

"I know it seems that way, Farkas, but it's not. I found things when I was at the Embassy, things that don't look good for the future of Skyrim." Things that made her own sword arm heavy with lament and longing. "It's only a matter of time before they strike, especially now that we are weak from our fight with the Empire. We are trying everything we can to take care of Alduin and the dragons first… but the Thalmor aren't fools. They will take advantage of any opportunity that presents itself, and right now Alduin is an unfortunate opportunity."

"They say if you spend enough time with someone, you start to think and sound like them," he said. "I think maybe you've been spending too much time with your king."

"Like it or not, he's your king too," she pointed out.

"I don't have to like it, I'm just saying… You sound more and more like him every time I see you, but I don't know what I expected to happen when you became queen. I guess I was just being daft old Farkas when I thought you'd still be the same Lu I know and love."

"I am still the same person I was before." She didn't know why she'd let herself think they could ever go back to the way things were. They would never be those same two people; they'd seen too much. "Farkas, please. I didn't come all this way to fight with you."

"Then why did you come, Luthien?"

"I came because I wanted to see you," she huffed. "I came because I never know when I go to meet the gods."

"I—I'm sorry, Lu." The hardened features of his face softened with shame, and he looked down at his shoes like a little boy. "I guess I'm just a jerk."

"You're not a jerk, Farkas," she sighed. "Are you still having those dreams? About Vilkas?"

He nodded, raising his soft blue eyes to meet hers again. She could never tell him, but that actually gave her a little hope. If Vilkas was still there, still lost and calling out to his brother—with whom he'd shared a womb and a soul and the deepest bond imaginable. "I hardly sleep at all anymore."

"Maybe you need to get out of this place for a little while."

"And go where?" He let loose a long, groaning breath. "War's over, for now anyway, and like I said, I'm tired of running muscle jobs. When I was out there on my own last year, it wasn't the same. I felt so… alone. I mean, I always thought I had a place out there with you, but there's no room for me anymore."

"There's always room for you," she insisted. "I would be grateful to have both of you watching my back, but I can't worry about you and Ulfric killing each other while I'm trying to fight off dragons."

"You really think he'd go for that? Me tagging along behind the two of you like a… what was it he said? Oh yeah, I remember, a lost dog? No, I don't think there _is_ room for me."

"He actually suggested it," she felt her blood harden in her veins.

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Right."

Seeing him again hadn't played out the way she'd imagined it in her head. She didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't the surly, resentful, hulk of a man looming in front of her. She'd thought they were okay when she'd left, that they would be able to get past whatever tension Ulfric had sown between them, and try as she might to turn it around in her head and make it all Ulfric's fault, it was Farkas who was being stubborn, even childish, now.

"Well, don't go telling everyone I didn't ask you to come along with me to save the world after I'm dead. Because I did." She stepped up to him, taller in spirit than she was in form, her golden eyes burning with a fire she was sure he could feel. "It isn't my fault you're too damn bullheaded to accept the invitation and just swallow your damn…" She couldn't even finish her sentence; she was so mad and so tired. What next came out of her mouth could only later be described as half-scream, half-growl.

She turned on her heal, marching right back out the way she'd come in, and though she heard him call after her to wait, she just kept walking, all the way back to Breezehome, so fast she swore she felt her stamina drain lower than it ever had before in her life.


	24. Chapter 24

At first she was glad to find Ulfric sleeping. She didn't want to have to explain why she was so angry. It would probably only make things worse, maybe even reignite his jealousy and make him question the bond she and Farkas shared again. It just… It wasn't like that, or maybe it was and Ulfric had every reason to be jealous. It was clearly like that with Farkas, and try as she might for years to deny it, it had always been so. He'd told her enough times to her face how he'd felt about her, that she'd chosen the wrong brother and maybe he was finally starting to hate her because she hadn't returned those feelings when she still had the chance. Would it have been the same in time if Vilkas had lived? Would he have grown to resent his own twin the same way he resented Ulfric?

There was no denying she and Farkas were stronger together than she had ever been alone, than she'd ever been with anyone else, and she'd had plenty of companions in her travels. Mages, mercenaries, housecarls, shield-brothers and sisters, husbands… But no matter who she fought beside, the only person who'd ever felt as if he actually belonged at her side had been Farkas.

Laying down next to Ulfric, she thought to let him sleep, but instead found herself reaching out to touch his face. Her lover, her mate, the father of her child. Ulfric may not have started with her heart when he'd drawn her to him like a magnet, just as he seemed to draw in everything around him, but he'd quickly carved his way into it.

Farkas had almost scoffed at her when she'd last been there, saying, "Of course you do," when she'd told him she loved her husband, but it was true. Ulfric had shown her things no one else in Nirn ever could have, shared things with her neither of them had ever shared with another living soul. He'd planted the seed of life in her belly and a part of him had grown inside her. How could she _not_ love him? But on the other hand, any man could have filled her belly with a baby—even Farkas. Gods only knew how hard Vilkas had tried to put a child in her, only to look down in sorrow every time her moons' blood came.

But it hadn't been any man. It had been Ulfric, and how could Farkas, who claimed he only wanted what was best for her, only wanted her to be happy, not see that in his own way Ulfric made her happy. Yes, with every moment of happiness he'd brought her, there had also been insufferable pain. The first stirring of life in her womb had taken her breath away, and the last image she held of her son in her mind broke her heart. It was always Ulfric, holding that tiny little life in his giant hands so gently, eyes lit up with warmth and excitement as he said, "Blood of my blood." Even as she hated him for sending their son away, she had loved him so much then.

The tangling of her fingers into his hair stirred him, but before he could mutter and fall back into sleep's embrace, she kissed him and rolled him slowly onto his back. Climbing up to sit on his hips, her hands quickly worked at the loose ties of the shirt he'd fallen asleep in until she could wrench it open and lower kisses across the soft hair that covered his scarred chest. Instantly she felt the soft, sleeping giant between his legs harden and rise against the fabric that separated them, and he sat up with her still there in his lap, his passion quickly ignited, his body ready to burn with hers.

Reaching behind her, he gathered the folds of her dress and drew it up over her head so fast she thought she heard it tear. He tossed it to the floor at the foot of the bed and then pulled her back into him, kissing her again and again. She sighed, delighted as his soft mouth trailed along the stretched curve of her neck, the bristling hairs of his beard following after and creating a delicious sensation that always made her want him more.

She let him dominate her completely. Rolling her onto her back as he rose above her to finish undressing, he came down hard, crashing over her like an avalanche. She could count on both hands, and still have fingers left over, the number of times they'd made love since Hundr was born, but every single one of them had been pure, raw emotion—as if both of them feared it might be the last time they got to touch each other.

But she could feel her mind dangerously wandering every time she closed her eyes and buried her face into his hard shoulder. Flashes of forbidden thought touching at the edges like tingling fingertips._Farkas_… She had toyed with thoughts of him long ago, before she even really understood the things a man and a woman did together, when she'd first come to Whiterun and she'd overheard him telling Aela he thought she was pretty. And later when they'd been holed up in the abandoned tower outside Bleak Falls Barrow, before her heart recognized its yearning for his brother. She still remembered thinking Farkas was exactly the kind of man her father would have wanted her to spend the rest of her life with. Again during the war, when Vilkas was gone and she was so broken and alone while they camped beneath the stars and Ulfric had already begun playing games with her emotions. She'd pushed those thoughts away, into a dark part of herself clearly marked _NEVER_, but every time she saw him, his eyes he seemed to whisper _ALWAYS_. As if he would stand beside her until the end of days, waiting for her to open up a place in her heart for him.

And there was no denying a part of her yearned for him whenever they weren't together. She'd always thought it was just because she'd grown so used to him being there with her; he was like an extension of her, another sword arm, another heart… Now she questioned that longing. Was there more to it than familiarity? No, it couldn't be. She refused to believe it, but as Ulfric drove himself deeper and deeper into her with such vigor it almost hurt, her tricky mind let her believe for a moment it was someone else making love to her. The raw emotion and fervent passion she answered every one of his downward strokes with destructive, as she asked herself, _what would it be like_? Would it be strange and wrong, or perfect and right?

Either way, she would never know. She would _never_ betray Ulfric. He was her husband, and she'd taken a vow before Mara. She loved him…

_Of course you do_…

She could almost hear him mumbling those forlorn words, as if following her heart had been a purposeful betrayal to him. Why hadn't she followed it to him?

Opportunities for such privacy and comfort had become so rare that Ulfric drew it out as long as he could hold himself back, and then he held on even longer. She could see it was almost painful for him to deny himself, but he continued to make her whimper and cry out again and again before he finally let himself go, filling her with the warmth of his seed before shuddering. Chills danced across his pale skin and he dropped down to lay atop her, still buried inside her. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, her conflicted heart filled with guilt and longing as she brought her arms around him and held him there with her.

She _did_ love Ulfric. He was her husband, her heart. Farkas was her best friend. It had to be natural to feel that close to someone she had spent so much time with, to be at least a little curious. Didn't it?

"Woman," he growled into the crook of her neck, laughing and lifting his head to kiss her before he rolled over onto the other side of the bed with a hearty, contented sigh. "How go things with your brother?"

She was quiet for a moment, startled by that often uncanny knack he seemed to have for speaking words that coincided with her train of thought. Or maybe it was just her guilty conscience looming over her like a specter. She had never thought about another man while he was making love to her; never fantasized that he as Vilkas. _Had he felt it somehow? Did he know?_

She was being paranoid. She hadn't done anything wrong. So she'd thought about Farkas. It wasn't as if she would ever carry out those fantasies. "Not well," she finally said, sitting up and drawing the blankets up over her chest. "He is still troubled by his dreams." Just another strange thing they seemed to have in common. "I think he's spent too much time brooding up at Jorrvaskr. I invited him to travel with us, as you suggested, but he refused me."

"Hm—" He glanced back over his shoulder at her. "I assume because of me?"

"He says there is no room for him in my life anymore."

She actually heard lament in his words when he turned back around to look at her, lifting a hand to rest on her shoulder, the other raising to draw her chin up. "I am sorry I created this rift between you, my heart. I know how close the two of you once were, and I can't help but feeling…" His words trailed off into genuine regret. "Perhaps if I talk to him and apologize?"

"No!" She spoke too quickly, and at first she thought that might give him insight into her hidden thoughts, but he just chuckled a little.

"I understand, and you are probably right."

"Maybe it is best if I just let him go," she said, releasing it outwardly, but inside she tucked it all deep down and buried it—forever. "That part of my life is over now. It's been over, and holding onto him… it just seems to bring us both more pain than anything else."

"You should never let go of the people you love, Luthien." She was surprised to hear him say that, glancing up at him again with wrinkled brow. She would have expected him to agree with her, calling it a wise decision. Maybe the Ulfric she'd known a few months ago would have told her that, but the man he'd become in their travels together was so very different. "Especially not your family and even more, especially not when such uncertain times lay at our feet. I was wrong to try and keep you only for myself. I know that now."

"You really are the man I need you to be." She lifted her hand to his cheek and he nestled into her palm, kissing her wrist tenderly as he closed his eyes. "I will give him more time. Come back if I can after we go to Sky Haven Temple."

"Is it wise to wait, when you don't know what awaits you there?"

"I just… I can't now."

"You will do what you feel is right," he said, lifting his eyes to hers again. "You've made me hungry," he changed the subject, rising from the bed. "Let's eat."

That night exhaustion finally claimed her. She'd barely slept at all on the road from Riften, but as she sat near the fire listening to Ulfric talk nostalgically about his childhood, she could feel sleep drawing at her like a doomed specter. Normally, she loved to listen to the stories of his youth, but several times she'd nodded off, his words trailing into the hollow echo inside her head until he finally insisted she go to bed and promised he would join her as soon as he finished his mead.

She fell into bed and slept hard. So hard she couldn't escape the cycle of dreams that ran her through the same failed fight with Alduin over and again until she finally bolted awake just before dawn. Ulfric still snored beside her and didn't move when she crawled out of bed. Drawing the blankets back up over him, she quietly dressed and then crept down the stairs. She built the fire back up to warm the chill from the air so he would wake to a warm house and then she drew her cloak around, heading for the door.

It had been a long time since she'd watched the sun rise over Dragonsreach. Sometimes, just after they were married, she and Vilkas would lay awake all night talking, or arguing—as they were prone to do if she'd been away too long. On the verge of sleep, he would nudge her and say, "Let's go watch the sun come up." And bundled in the same blanket, Vilkas standing behind her with his arms around her, the two of them stood on the landing in front of the door watching the sun rise over the mountains behind Dragonsreach. Leaning his face in close to hers, he would always mutter with the same astonishment, "It is so beautiful," and then he'd kiss her cheek, nuzzling his cold nose against her skin.

She'd never known anything like that with Ulfric, but she didn't resent him for it. Both men were great thinkers, introspective minds, but the things Ulfric appreciated were so different. He was learning how to speak to her woman's heart, something she'd never imagined he would do.

Reaching for the door handle and pulling it open, Farkas nearly tumbled into the house, startling a gasp from her as she stepped back and watched him catch himself as if he'd fallen asleep propped against the door. He sat up quick and turned over his shoulder to look at her almost sheepishly. Damn him and those innocent eyes, staring up at her apologetically and saying things with his quiet heart that he would never say with words.

_Always…_

"'Bout time you got up. Been sitting out here all night waiting for you," Farkas explained, picking himself up and dusting off his backside as she slipped through the door and closed it behind her. He was wearing the dragon armor they had once made with Eorlund, using the scales of the first dragon they'd slain together. "So, when we leavin'?"

"Ulfric is still sleeping." She crossed her arms, regarding him curiously. "I thought you said there was no place for you in my life anymore?"

Shrugging his broad shoulders upward, he cocked his head, hair and braids falling across his face when he did. "Look, I'm dumb, okay. I know that, and I know was a big jerk yesterday. I'm really sorry."

"You're not dumb," she sighed. She hated how easily he fell back on that insult, had always fallen back on it because it was what everyone had told him all his life. Everyone but her. "You were kind of a jerk, though," she agreed, arms still crossed. "But I meant what I said. I need good strong warriors beside me, not little boys with grudges against each other who are going to distract me from what I need to do." She had enough distractions inside her own mind to tide her over until the End of Days.

"No grudges," he promised, crossing his fingertip over the heart beneath his breastplate.

"All right," she nodded, lowering her arms. "It's good to have you back, shield-brother." She stepped up to embrace him, holding him tighter than she should have, heart quickening as she moved back before it could speed up anymore. "What made you change your mind?"

Shrugging up his shoulder, he said, "He gets to be king. He gets the girl… I can't let him have _all_ the glory." He grinned a little to let her know he was only joking. "Now, go wake up that old man and let's go kick some dragon ass."


	25. Chapter 25

Luthien expected trouble, despite Ulfric suggesting she invite Farkas to join them and Farkas promising not to carry his grudges with him. Ulfric had come down the stairs completely lacking surprise when he saw Farkas sitting at the table eating eggs and bread. He sat down in the chair at the end of the table and the two of them started talking as if there'd never been any bad words between them. She stood back by the cooking pot watching it all unfold and wondering if Ulfric had gone to make amends after she'd fallen asleep, even though she'd told him not to. He was a lot like her, in that he did what he wanted, whether she liked it or not.

She walked Ulfric's breakfast to the table, lowering the plate in front of him. He lifted his gaze to hers, a slow smile drawing at the corners of his mouth before he turned his attention to filling his empty belly. She didn't know what had really happened, and it seemed neither of them had any intention of shedding light on the subject. It warmed her heart more than she could ever tell him, knowing he had set out to make things he'd turned wrong right again.

She ate and listened to the two of them talk like old friends, occasionally shaking her head as she realized she would never understand men.

The road west would take them into The Reach, Forsworn territory. The Forsworn had no love for Ulfric Stormcloak, and with good reason. He'd driven them out of Markarth and into the Wilds—at least those who had actually survived his raid.

Being with them both that way was going to take some getting used to. At night while they sat around their campfire sharing stories of the things they'd seen when not together, she found her gaze occasionally lingering far too long on Farkas. He looked so different to her now, older, harder, much of the innocent light in his eyes gone—never to return. Every once in a while, Farkas would catch her lingering gaze, but he didn't hold it. He would look back into the fire and watch the flames climb higher as they lapped the cold air. Occasionally he raised his hand to stroke the long hairs of his beard, almost absently, as if even he still wasn't used to it being there.

Ulfric's arm would come around her, drawing her back against his chest as he shared the tale of their escape from the slums of Riften, a host of angry Thalmor at their back and a scared old man in rags in their charge. "If the Thalmor weren't enraged enough by Luthien's infiltration at the Embassy, that little stunt surely got their attention. Since then, we've killed every Thalmor we've come across on the road without hesitation."

"Aren't you worried you'll provoke them?" Farkas asked. "I mean, if we're not ready to go to war with them yet…"

"The crimes they've committed against our people can't go on unanswered." Ulfric drained his mead, lowering his tankard to the ground. "They are still secretly hunting out those who worship Talos outside Windhelm, even though the war is over."

"Hmm," Farkas nodded. "I don't spend a lot of time in temples, but even I think people should have the right to worship as they please."

"And people said the war against the Empire was a Holy War," Ulfric sighed.

"Farkas, you never did tell me about your search for Lydia," Luthien spoke up.

"No, I didn't."

"You never found her?"

His face drew even more gaunt than it already was. He'd once mentioned to her that maybe he should marry Lydia. The two of them had spent a lot of time together when she'd been married to Vilkas, but it hadn't amounted to anything serious. She'd turned up missing just after the Battle for Whiterun and he'd gone off to search for her after the war. "Oh, I found her all right," he shook his head. "Let's just say… she's in a better place and leave it at that."

Luthien didn't like the sound of that, and that night when she dreamed of Alduin, he had chased her and her children into a vast, mist-filled field of lost and wandering souls. Among them she saw Vilkas and Kodlak, Lydia and so many others, good men and women, Nords who had died beside her in battle—some of them at the end of her own blade. Ulfric was there too, and Farkas, wandering lost in the mists. It made her scream out in protest, but her scream was silent. Only in her dreams. When she woke with a gasp into the quiet darkness, Ulfric was sleeping undisturbed beside her, while Farkas knelt just at the edge of the fire, his back to their tent.

He didn't glance up until she was standing over his shoulder, a shadow cast in front of the fire's light. "I'll take watch," she told him. "You should get some sleep."

Pushing up from his crouch, he towered over her, and despite the darkness she could see his eyes. Soft and blue as ice, but so warm. "You okay?"

"You'd think I'd be used to having bad dreams by now."

"Alduin?"

"Always." Alduin devouring the souls of everyone she loved.

"I'll stay up with you for a bit," he said. "I know I hate waking up from nightmares and finding myself alone." Hearing him say that broke her heart, and she longed to reach out to him, to tell him he was not alone, but she couldn't even begin to understand his emptiness. He'd lost a part of his soul when Vilkas died, and it had left him broken.

"You don't have to," she shook her head. "You need your sleep too. I'll be all right."

"Just for a little while, until I know you're not scared anymore." She didn't know if she would ever not be scared anymore, not knowing what she knew, but his soft smile melted some of the darkness that gripped her, releasing the tight grip of her own fear just enough for her to relax.

For nearly an hour they sat quietly by the fire listening for strange sounds in the night, but nothing came. He soon fell asleep where he sat, and she nudged him awake again, telling him to go to bed.

The long, rocky road through The Reach was spotted with Forsworn encampments, aggressive warriors and their Briarhearts, looking to reclaim The Reach and quell the vengeance in their dark hearts. Word seemed to travel quickly that the High King was on the road, and as they drew closer to their destination, the Forsworn seemed to meet them in droves on the path, ready for more than just a fight.

On their fifth day out, they heard the familiar sound of battle in the Karth River Canyon, dragon fire and the clang of weapons against armor, angry voices shouting battle cries and war taunts. Smoke plumed up from the canyon, and Luthien need only lift her head to smell the distinct scent of magic on the air. At first they thought it was just the Briarhearts, or worse, the Thalmor, but as they crept in quietly to inspect the situation from the ridge above they saw Delphine and Esbern battling back an ancient bronze dragon while the Forsworn attacked them from behind. Esbern's Storm Atronach raged against a wicked Hagraven shooting blasts of lightning and destruction out at any and all who crossed her path, cackling with glee as she hobbled through the mayhem on twisted, clawed feet.

They joined the fight, Ulfric immediately unleashing his Thu'um to drive a host of Forsworn down the hillside, while Farkas let out a mighty battle cry and Luthien conjured up her Dremora Lord, his harsh voice joining with Ulfric and Farkas as he bellowed out, "I honor my Lord by destroying you before rushing to join the battle!"

She'd been in battles before that were utter chaos, but that fight was worse than anything she'd ever seen. It wasn't hard to lose track of her companions' positions among the melee, relief always rushing through her when she heard Ulfric call, "Do you want me to close my eyes? Would that even things up a bit?" or Farkas crying, "I'm gonna kill you!"

Running across the rickety pier structure the Forsworn had built across the Karth River, she joined Esbern and Delphine in fighting the dragon, unleashing her Fire Breath to counter its frost and momentarily stunning it to give herself time to draw Wuuthrad from her back.

Scale cracked and splintered under her heavy, downward strike and the dragon threw back its head, screaming a stream of hard frost into the air above it that rained down around them. It stamped backward, but Delphine lunged in with her short-sword as it reared for flight, driving it into the beast's soft underbelly from below.

"Talos be praised," she heard herself mutter as it fell. She turned away from the iridescent blue and gold spirals of its soul reaching out to her and scanned the battlefield behind her. The blood of the Forsworn littered the pier, but she didn't see Ulfric or Farkas anywhere at first. Had it not been for thunder of Ulfric's Thu'um, she probably could have gotten lost for hours, searching frantically among the bodies. She raised her eyes against the dim light of a cloud-covered sun toward the steps leading up to Karthspire, and there she saw Farkas and Ulfric continuing the battle. "This way," she called over her shoulder to Delphine and Esbern, already breaking into a swift run.

By the time she reached them, they'd cleared the landing outside the cave and Farkas knelt over Ulfric, who was lying on the ground with an arrow jutting from his shoulder. It had pierced through his armor, and there was a flickering moment of déjà vu that sickened her stomach. She was not losing another husband that way.

"It's just a scratch," she heard him gasp as he strained to sit up.

"It's not a scratch," she snapped, dropping to her knees to survey the damage.

"Looks like the tip went through the skin on the other side," Farkas observed, lingering at her back. "It didn't pierce the armor though."

"Pull it out." Ulfric started to reach up for the shaft, but she grabbed his hands to stop him.

"I can't pull it back out the way it went in. Forsworn arrows are specifically designed to do more damage on the way out. It'll tear you apart if you yank it back through that way. I'm going to have to push it through the skin so I can break it off and pull it out."

"Don't tell me what you're going to do, woman. Just do it!" he growled.

She struggled with his armor for a few minutes, trying desperately not to jerk the arrow backwards. When she finally loosened it enough to lower her hand between ebony and skin, she gripped the feathered fletching in her left hand and jammed it through hard just above her fingertips. His gasping cry of pain echoed through the canyon as Delphine and Esbern pattered up the stairs. As soon as it was far enough through his shoulder, she grasped the arrowhead and snapped it free, doing her best to ignore every clenched rasp of raging breath he exhaled. Her trembling hands were slick with his blood, which made it difficult to get a strong hold on the fletching again to draw it backward through the wound and his armor.

I think maybe you are enjoying this far too much." Ulfric grimaced up at her, but she could see the light of amusement shimmering in his steel-blue eyes. Regardless of the pain, he lived for moments like that, another battle scar, another story to tell his children one day as they gathered around their father's knees. "Hurry up, woman."

"I'm hurrying," she assured him, wiping her hands on the stone beneath her feet and then gripping once more with both hands. She nearly tumbled backward down the stairs when it wrenched free, Ulfric unleashing a grateful roar of appreciation before staggering to his wobbly feet. "You're losing a lot of blood," she told him, rising herself. "Maybe you should sit down for a moment. Farkas, can you get me some potions from my bag?"

"Will do," he nodded.

"I don't need to sit down," he insisted.

She was already summoning her restoration magic, the tingling power of her healing hands glowing gold in the palm of her hand as she reached out to him."If you don't sit down, I'm going to knock you down, Ulfric Stormcloak. Now sit!"

He found the edge of the steps, begrudgingly seating himself to work at the straps of his armor while she healed him with both hands. Farkas handed her another philter of magicka and then drew out a healing potion for Ulfric.

"I think the wound is closing," she said, drawing back the edge of his undershirt, squinting as she leaned in to look.

"See, I told you, woman," he smirked up at her almost playfully. "Just a scratch."

"If you weren't already bleeding, I would cut you."

"Such fire," he laughed, but she could see the pain lingering in his eyes as he did.

"As soon as you are all ready to move again, the temple is through the cavern," Esbern pointed out, clearly getting restless to move on.

"Esbern," Delphine nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

Luthien lifted a glare in his general direction, and Ulfric started to laugh, moving to stand again. "Such a strong, vibrant Nord woman, my wife. She takes down enemies with nothing more than a look. Come, let us go find your dragon wall."

Drawing him back, away from the others, who were already heading toward the cavern entrance, she pulled at the straps of his armor to tighten them into the buckles again. "I know you are a big, strong warrior, my king. It is one of the many reasons I love you, but no one will think less of you if you need more time…"

He brought his bloodstained hand up to her cheek. "Shor's bones, woman, I am fine. It's going to take more than some Briarheart's shoddy arrow to kill this old man."

"You are not an old man." She felt her lips twitching. "You are young and strong. In your prime, my love."

"And you are a very good liar, my heart." He leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Let's find this wall."

Farkas lingered at the cave entrance; she could feel him watching them as they walked, Ulfric's arm across her shoulder, leaning into her. She lifted her eyes to Farkas for a moment, and he met her gaze with a sad smile and then he disappeared into the cavern.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting new chapters up on this site. Just a brief note to anyone reading, this story is already complete and posted in its entirety over on my website. If you get tired of waiting for me to post new chapters, feel free to drop by my website. The url is posted in my profile.


	26. Chapter 26

The Forsworn had taken up residence inside Karthspire as well, but as they battled them back, Ulfric diving into battle more vigorously than anyone else—as if he felt he had something to prove—it seemed the majority of their clan had been outside. They met with only seven of them as they wove through the wooden structure and into a tunnel that led up a ramp on the right, arriving at a landing with three glyphed stones.

"This looks promising," Delphine muttered, a hint of excitement in her voice.

"Yes," Esbern agreed. "Definitely early Akaviri stonework here."

"That looks like a bridge," Farkas gestured across the gap between landings. "But I don't see a lever anywhere."

"Maybe these pillars have something to do with it," Delphine reasoned.

"Yes, these are Akaviri symbols. That one there is the symbol for King and that one the Warrior, and ah yes… That one there is the symbol for Dragonborn. You see it there? It's the one that has the arrow shape pointing downward near the bottom. Yes, that's it. The symbol there, on the left. Let's try to align them all and see what happens."

He stepped aside and gestured for Luthien to try it, and one by one she aligned the pillars until the Dragonborn symbol read across all three. There was a great rumbling, old stone and dust trembling from the ceiling as the bridge began to lower, creating a path to the opposite landing.

"Whatever you did, it worked," Delphine said. "Let's see what else those old Blades left in our path."

The five of them moved cautiously across the bridge, with Luthien at the front. Farkas stood to her right, looking upward at the old stonework as they walked, and on her left Ulfric's brow furrowed with intrigue as Delphine's torch lit the way from behind. When they reached the landing, the doorway to the stairs was thickly blocked with hundreds of years of cobweb, and beside her Farkas shuddered.

"You go first," he nodded toward it.

"Chicken," she chuckled, sweeping her arm through the web until the walkway was clear. She ducked up the stairs, Ulfric following, but stopped short when Delphine's torchlight spread across a floor of pressure plate traps and Ulfric's arm shot out to hold her back. "There's a pull chain over there," she gestured across the plates with her head.

"Who wants to burn to death to get over there?" he asked her.

"I have a way," she grinned, summoning her Thu'um as she moved his arm out of her path. "Don't move." Exhaling all of her tension, she let the way of the voice flow through her. "WULD NAH KEST!" It always felt like time sped up and the world around her slowed down when she summoned Whirlwind Sprint, but no matter how many times she'd done it, she'd never quite gotten the hang of stopping gracefully. She hit the wall with the chain, stumbling back and activating the pressure plate beneath her foot. Spurts of slame shot up, but she quickly claimed her balance as she shook off the after affects and reached for the chain. The fire stopped, and she breathed relief before turning back around to let them all know it was safe.

"You could have just walked across the Dragonborn plates, show off," Farkas teased, gesturing to the plates that hadn't changed when she'd yanked the chain.

"Either way, it's safe now. Let's move." Delphine and Esbern raced across the stone plates, Esbern calling over his shoulder, "Yes! I think we're getting closer to the entrance."

The three of them walked more slowly up the carved stone ramp, taking in everything around them. Luthien had been in a lot of caves and dungeons in her lifetime, but none of them were quite like Karthspire. The old stonework was mesmerizing, historical on a completely different level than anything she'd ever known. She felt like it was a place that had been made especially for her, and as she made her way up the final few steps toward the entrance, she realized it had been made for her, for the Dragonborn who would one day have no choice but to face Alduin.

They'd lost Esbern and Delphine completely in the quagmire of winding stairs, but she could hear them up ahead, Esbern's gleeful joy, which she soon discovered had been the result of his finding Sky Haven Temple.

"Wonderful," he was saying from the top of the last set of stairs. "And Remarkably well-preserved too."

When she arrived at the top of the stairs, looking across the temple entrance took her breath away. The entrance along the far wall was a long, white face of stone blocking them from going further into the temple.

"That's… That's just… Wow…" Farkas almost lost his footing on the stairs he was so taken aback by the scene unfolding before them.

Esbern was waving them to join him in front of a spiraling circle just beneath the gate. "Here's the blood seal, another lost ancient Akaviri art. No doubt triggered by… well… blood."

"Who's blood?" Ulfric stepped forward. "I'm already covered in it."

Ignoring him as if he hadn't even spoken, Esbern brought his eyes up to meet hers. "Your blood, Dragonborn."

She walked toward the blood seal, lingering at the edge. It felt strange and sacred, like the worship of the gods, but so different. Few gods accepted blood sacrifice anymore, save for the Daedric Princes, and as she teetered there staring down at the seal, she wondered which of them she could expect to make an appearance once she made an offering.

"Look here! See how the ancient Blades revered Reman Cyrodiil?" Esbern was muttering, but no one else seemed to be listening. "This whole place seems to be a shrine to Reman. He ended the Akaviri invasion under mysterious circumstances, if you recall."

"What's he talking about?" she heard Farkas mutter to Ulfric.

"Shor's bones if I know."

She stepped into the center of the blood seal and knelt down, drawing her dagger from her sheath and staring at the floor under her boots. She had no idea what was going to happen once her blood dropped onto that seal, but there was only one way to find out. It stung as soon as it sliced across the sensitive flesh of her palm, droplets quickly rising to the surface of her skin until her hand was full and dripping with her own blood.

White light began to writhe up around her, the stones turning beneath her feet and making her feel almost dizzy as the great face in the wall yawned open and slid upward, revealing the passageway into the temple. Rising from where she knelt, she called upon her restoration powers again, quickly healing the cut on her hand as she stalked forward without even looking back to see how was going to follow her.

"That's done it," Esbern cried out. "It's coming to life. Wait for us!"

"The Dragonborn should have the honor of being the first to set foot in Sky Haven Temple in centuries, let her go, Esbern."

Luthien was already disappearing through the door at the top of the stairs when she heard Delphine say that, drawing upon alteration to cast several orb-like mage lights into the darkness to show her the way. Delphine was the first through the door at her back, her torch quickly devouring the dark in the stairwell, but Luthien was following the soft blue glow of the sky shining through the long, open ceiling.

Of all the story walls she'd seen in her travels, she had never seen anything quite like the long wall of carvings that spanned across the entire right hand side of the chamber. The details seemed to come to life as the others came in, all four of them carrying torches now, shedding light on a story none had told for long centuries past.

Esbern was lighting the sconces and censers as he walked, filling the room with a soft golden glow that shed further light on the wall… Alduin's Wall. The story with the power to save them all.

"This is it," Ulfric appeared at her shoulder.

She only swallowed and nodded, glancing back at him with wide eyes before returning her attention to the wall.

"I've never seen a finer example of Second Era Akaviri sculptural relief."

"Esbern, we need information, not an art history lesson."

"You know, craftsmanship isn't what it used to be," Farkas muttered. "People just don't carve anymore."

Even as Ulfric snorted a laugh, Luthien couldn't be distracted from the monstrous beauty before her. Alduin… the dragon who haunted her dreams every night, in all his glory lording over mankind.

Esbern seemed almost as lost and enthralled as she was, lighting the censer beside the wall and stepping back, murmuring, "Yes, yes. Let's see what we have here. Look here," he pointed to the dragon. "Here is Alduin! This panel goes back to the beginning of time, when Alduin and the Dragon Cult ruled over Skyrim. Here, the humans rebel against their dragon overlords—the legendary Dragon War. Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece on the wall."

"It couldn't really be counted as a defeat if he is back," Ulfric said.

"Shh!" Esbern hushed them. "Ah, here he is falling from the sky. The Nord Tongues, Masters of the Voice, are arrayed here against him."

"So, does it show how they defeated him? That is why we're here, isn't it?" Delphine loomed in close over his shoulder, inspecting the imagery.

"Patience, my dear. The Akaviri were not a straight-forward people. Everything here is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism. You see, yes, yes, this here, coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes. It is the Akaviri symbol for shout, but there's no way to know what shout is meant."

"You mean they used a shout to defeat Alduin?" Delphine balked, leaning back to look at Luthien with hope gleaming in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Hmm? Oh yes. Something rather specific to dragons, or even Alduin himself. Remember, this is where they recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return."

"So we're looking for a shout then?" Delphine scrunched up her face. "Damn it." She turned back to Luthien. "Have you ever heard of anything like this? A shout that could knock a dragon from the sky?"

"No," she still couldn't take her eyes off that wall. The spiraling fall of Alduin from the sky. It was beautiful. "I've never heard of anything like that."

Ulfric spoke up, "The Greybeards might know."

She sighed. "You're probably right. I was hoping to avoid involving them in this, but it seems we have no choice."

"What have you got against the Greybeards?" Luthien finally drew her attention from the wall, narrowing her focus now on the small woman that stood in front of her.

"If they had their way, you'd do nothing but sit up on their mountain with them and do nothing but talk to the sky, or whatever it is they do."

"They meditate," Ulfric explained. "On the Way of the Voice. It has always been so with those at High Hrothgar, save for the Dragonborn."

"The Greybeards are so afraid of power, they won't even use it."

"Because there has been no need to use it." His voice quickly revealed an almost protective edge as he lifted it to defend his former masters.

"Isn't that why you're no longer there with them, Ulfric? Because you yourself couldn't sit idly by and do nothing when called to take action?"

"That is beside the point. The Greybeards are not warriors. They are monks, advocates of peace."

"Peace? While the world below suffers the wrath of dragons. They've done nothing about Alduin since he's returned. It's like they want him to destroy the world. They're afraid of you and your power, Dragonborn. Trust me, there is no need to be afraid. Do you think Tiber Septim was afraid of his power? He would have never founded the Empire if he'd listened to the Greybeards."

"The Greybeards may have a point. Power can be dangerous," Luthien interjected, lifting a steady gaze to Ulfric to silently ask him to curb his temper. The words she'd spoken had angered Luthien, so she could only imagine what they were doing to Ulfric.

"Power is only dangerous if you don't know how to use it. All the great heroes have had to learn to use their power. And those that shrank away from their destiny… well, you've never heard of them, have you? And there are the villains, those that misused their power. There's always a choice, and there's always a risk. But if you live in fear of what might go wrong, you'll end up doing nothing and you'll wind up like the Greybeards up on their mountain."

"I don't live in fear," she assured her. "I will go and speak with the Greybeards."

"Right, good thing they've already let you into their little cult. It's not like they'd do a damn thing to help me or Esbern if we came calling."

"Yeah." The knot of tension clenching in her gut was difficult to ignore. She already had doubts about Delphine, but the things she'd said to her just then had only served to strengthen her growing distrust. She wanted to see Alduin gone just as much as everyone else, but it wasn't some power trip. And no matter what she said about the Greybeards, the things they'd held back from her, they'd done to protect her. She was the only one of her kind, the only Dragonborn, and they wanted her to live. "Good thing."

Delphine and Esbern decided to stay there at the temple to see what else the old Blades had left behind. It was a better hideout than they ever could have asked for, and given enough time and resources, maybe they could even begin to rebuild their once proud faction, but as Luthien made her way down the steps with Ulfric and Farkas at her back, she already knew in her heart that she would never help them rebuild the Blades. Not as long as Delphine was in charge. Everything with them seemed to be black or white, love or hate, death or life… no in betweens.

Once they were outside again, walking slowly down the stairs into the canyon, Ulfric glanced down at her, his eyes sad with lament. "You know I cannot walk the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar with you."

"I know." She looked down at her feet as she walked. She hadn't forgotten their agreement with Master Arngeir when she'd agreed to go and speak with the Greybeards, but a part of her had silently hoped he would disregard that rule much the way he seemed to disregard everything he didn't like. His respect for the Greybeards ran too deep for that; she should have known better. "Will you wait for me in Ivarstead?"

"I will travel east with you, but I think it would be best if we part in Ivarstead for a time. I will make my way home to take care of any business that has been neglected in my absence. I have long been away, and I am sure there is plenty for me to do." He turned his attention over Luthien's opposite shoulder. "Farkas, brother, will you travel with my queen to High Hrothgar in my stead?"

She glanced up at Farkas; he didn't seem to know what to say at first. After a long silence, during which he stroked at the knot of his beard as if he really needed to think about it, he nodded. "I would be honored to, my king."


End file.
